


My Foolish Heart (Secrets and Lies)

by born_awkward



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A Viper in my Bosom, Alliances, Back to Black, Badass Rey, Celibate Ben, F/M, Is this a Skywalker I see before me?, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Making Babies, Marriage of Convenience, Mrs Solo, Picking up Handsome Men in Bars, Postscript, Pre-nups, Reconciliation?, Return of the Wife, Secrets & Lies, Semper Fidelis, Skywalker family dynamics, Stand by your Man?, The Foolish Heart, The Other Woman, The Truth and nothing but the Truth, Trying To Find My Belonging in all This, What Could Possibly Go Wrong?, an unfortunate series of events, bundling, check notes, dark rey?, dinner at 7, finding our belonging, friends without benefits, just a jealous guy, kylo pain train, reylo domestic fluff, the ben solo pain train, the end of all things, will you be my valentine?, you can take the girl out of the street
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2019-11-14 09:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18050066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/born_awkward/pseuds/born_awkward
Summary: Businessman Ben Solo needs a wife (platonic).Waitress Rey is single, unattached and broke.He proposes.She accepts.What could possibly go wrong?UPDATED AND ANOTHER CHAPTER ADDED.





	1. Chapter 1

When he made his proposal on their first date she got angry and asked him if he thought she was a gold-digger? Then she was on her way out of her chair and out of his life, vowing never to see him again. 

He had grasped her hand with a firm grip, and that baritone voice soothed her sufficiently so that she dropped back into her seat and listened to the full proposal. 

He was a busy man married to his career, he told her, but at the same time under pressure from his boss, his peers and his clients to conform and take a wife. 

Was he gay, she asked, because if he was he should stand by his sexuality and not be browbeaten to conform to the mores of prejudiced people? 

He had laughed then, and he was so serious all the time that the sight and sound of it awoke tender feelings in her for him. 

No, he wasn’t gay, but like he said he was married to his career and just didn’t see himself as husband material. Husbands have to be unselfish, he opined, and he wasn’t, unselfish that is. He had career goals and a career plan that he was single-minded about – sorry/not sorry. 

She was the polar opposite of him, and while she tried to understand his mentality, really she couldn’t. She was a social creature, who gathered people to her and nurtured them. 

She was listening to him now, he could see that, so he elaborated. 

She would only be investing her time. There would be a pre-nup, obviously, and she would be protected by it financially. The longer the marriage went on the higher the figure if and when it ended. 

She bridled again, but his hand hadn’t let go hers and he had clasped it with both his big hands and massaged it, in particular rubbing his thumb in circles over her thumb joint. She found that strangely hypnotic. 

Look, he couldn’t say it enough times, but he hoped she’d believe him if he said it once, clearly, sincerely. He wasn’t asking her because he thought she could be bought, no, never that, but because he felt he could trust her, because he liked her and he felt sure they would be compatible – within the terms of his proposed arrangement. 

Oh, what was his proposal? 

Now, it wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive, he did (who wouldn’t), as well as liking her as a person, but it would be a chaste relationship, he was celibate you see. 

They’d live together and have companionship but separate bedrooms. Platonic, that was the word, a platonic relationship based on friendship and mutual respect. 

Well, she said, couldn’t they just be roomies? 

No, you see there would be times when he’d have to show her off as his wife, to clients, his work colleagues and his boss – people. They’d have to be introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Solo. 

She liked the sound of that, Mrs. Rey Solo. She played it in her mind several times over, and if she was honest that’s when the first of her fantasies started; the one where one day she was in reality Mrs. Solo. 

She could see it in her mind’s eye; he’d grow so attached he’d want to make the marriage real. No pressure from her, of course, but surely, if she was perfect for him as his wife-in-law, then one day he’d make it fact. They could have a real marriage and a real life together, as the family she’d always longed for. 

She didn’t share that with him, of course, but he could see that at last she was taking it seriously, was really listening. He pressed on. 

He’d clear all her debts, she could give up her waitress job immediately, move in with him immediately. He’d make her a monthly allowance until she’d finished her degree and could take up employment. It would be generous and cover all her costs. Did she think, without her daily struggle, she’d do well, better even, in her degree? 

Yes, yes she did. The worry and the physical effort were taking a toll on her. Her debt was just increasing not decreasing despite her best efforts and, frankly, it was a worry. 

She drew back. It all sounded too easy. Surely if it was too easy it had to be wrong? 

He laughed. No, what he was showing her was that money gave you choices. He could help her choose a better life; she could make an important difference to his because she was easy with people. Hell, she’d even sorted him out, called him on his crap, and making him like her – like her enough to want to marry her, within the terms of their agreement. 

He had to know this, she couldn’t cook. (She was envisioning smart dinner parties for smart people). Seriously, she couldn’t. She could make tea. In fact, tea and biscuits was her signature dish. Oh, and scrambled eggs. She made great scrambled eggs, a chef at the Connaught in London, England, had taught her. Long story, but she could make really great scrambled eggs, with toast if she had a toaster. 

No matter he could, cook that was. Same, long story, but he could. She could help him, he’d teach her. Anyways, that wasn’t a problem; if a meal had to be that important they’d take whomever to a restaurant. Did she see his point? That’s what money did, it gave you choices. 

She nodded; yes, she was starting to see that. It’s just that she wasn’t used to having money, a lot of it anyways. 

However, he had to know this: she was nobody, from nowhere. Her parents had abandoned her as a small child for drugs. They’d loved drugs more than her and abandoned her to the care system (not that she’d known much care), but that’s what they called it. Wouldn’t his parents and his peers, his clients and his boss, wouldn’t they want someone with, oh, I don’t know ... breeding? 

No, no they wouldn’t. Her past was no-one’s business but theirs. As for his parents, well, he was estranged from them. Never mind why, but he had good reasons, so that pressure was taken away. It would be the two of them, a partnership - a legal partnership with protection for them both in the law. 

Anyway, who would bother asking the hot girl on his arm about her past? No, they’d be too busy looking at her gorgeous legs and ass. That’s what did it for him, her legs and ass. In those heels she wore when waitressing in his favourite restaurant, along with that short skirt. 

She blushed. 

Ok, would she think about it, his proposal? 

Sure, where would they get married though? 

It would have to be a courthouse. He felt bad if she wanted a white wedding with all the trimmings. 

No, a courthouse wedding was fine. Could she bring her friends as witnesses? 

Sure she could and he’d treat them to lunch afterwards; lunch with champagne. The best! 

Ok. Could they talk tomorrow? She needed time to think it through. Maybe have more questions. 

Sure. By the way, if they could he’d like to be married by the month’s end. Sort out the legal stuff then go get married. 

Oh, ok. So she’d call tomorrow, ask her questions and give him an answer? 

That would be great, more than great really – fantastic! 

They laughed and raised their glasses. Here’s to them! 

+++++ 

Ok, she’d thought about it. There was no-one else in her life and she had career goals too that maybe she needed to be as single-minded about. 

So, to clarify, her understanding was she was entering into a relationship with him based on liking and respect, but with the protection of the law, for their mutual benefit? 

He’d pay her debts and treat her as his bona fide wife, except for sex, and protect them both with a pre-nup and a legal wedding ceremony. Was that it? 

Yes, sweetheart, that totally is it. 

Now, no need to mention to his lawyer he was paying her debts or it would be a marriage of convenience, in fact, no telling that to anyone. 

Oh, ok. 

Oh, and maybe she should get an independent lawyer to look over the pre-nup, it was best to be cautious. He wanted her to have peace of mind. Was that ok? 

Yes, yes, that was for the best. She could see that. 

Ok. He would sort out the pre-nup and courthouse. Then she just needed a dress and shoes and show up on the day. Oh, and find an independent lawyer and sign papers. 

Sure, she could do that. No problem. 

She found a female lawyer through word of mouth; a buxom blonde with killer heels and a reputation for chewing errant husbands into hamburger meat. She only represented women. 

The pre-nup was fair and generous, weighted in her favour she was advised. It provided for her financially with increased provisions the longer the marriage went on. She condensed the numbers, which, to Rey, sounded huge. Children from the marriage were provided for adequately too. 

Oh, children? 

Sure, obviously when she had children was up to her and her husband, but when they came their daily needs were provided for - and their education up to and including college, provided for generously at that. Obviously, should the marriage end. 

Oh! Her mind went places. 

Yes, she could go ahead and sign this, no problem. 

Thank you. Thank you. 

You’re welcome. If the worst happens and he tries to get out of it, come see me. Keep copies of everything. 

Right, right I will. I mean not that I think I will but ... yeah. 

+++++ 

They met to sign the pre-nup. His lawyer asked her if she’d taken independent advice. 

Yes, yes she had. She named the buxom blonde. 

Hux, his lawyer, winced. 

They signed and he took her to a well known jeweller. 

He bought her a diamond solitaire engagement ring, 2 carat set in platinum, with matching band. Oh, and a gold ladies Rolex as an engagement present, and a platinum wedding band for himself. 

‘Money gives you choices’. Yeah, it does, totally. 

He kissed her cheek and then they parted - lots to do. 

+++++ 

She sought out her friend Rose (who could be a little _extra_ ). 

Rose, a tiny bundle of energy and optimism, could tell she had something big to share, but even she had not anticipated the enormity of what Rey was confiding in her, she screeched, lots, when shown the ring, shown the Rolex, told about Ben, over everything! 

”So, spill, girlfriend. How? When? Why? Where?” the questions came thick and fast, Rose’s voice getting higher, screechier. 

Rey tried to dial it all back a little,”Well, turns out we were both attracted to each other right off.” 

Rose was practically vibrating with excitement,”Yeah.” 

”And then we had a coffee date. It’s not possible to have a deep and meaningful with the guy you’re serving dinner to, obviously, being on the clock.” 

Rose was dismissive, wanting to get to the nitty gritty,”Sure, yeah.” 

”Then more serious dates - like kissing.” 

Rose was bursting with impatience, wanting to get to the down and dirty stuff, “And sex!” 

”No, Rose, we haven’t had sex. I have to protect myself, obviously.” 

Rose snorted, a dreamy expression on her face,”I totally would have had sex with him, every which way.” 

”Rose, please!” 

Rose dialled back her on her excitement, misreading the reason for her friend’s scarlet cheeks,”Ok, ok.” 

”So then we knew it checked all the boxes and he proposed, and I said yes.” 

”So you have had sex?” 

”Rose, please, that’s private.” 

”Ok, ok, but I bet he’s a big boy with the size of those big ‘ol hands and feet!” Rose sniggered. 

”Rose, please, that’s between us.” 

”It sure is, girl, and from the way you’re blushing I can see he totally was!” 

”Rose, focus, I need a dress. I’m getting married in ten days.” 

”Ok, ok.” 

The dress was off white and showed off her sun kissed skin. It was calf length but backless. He couldn’t keep his hands off the exposed skin. 

Rose, Finn, Paige and Jessica were there for her. 

He brought his lawyer. 

They had a great lunch. The champagne flowed. 

”No, they weren’t having a honeymoon straight away. She was at a crucial stage in her assessments and exams, but after he was taking her away - somewhere with a beach and surfing.” 

”No biggie,” Rose was flushed and garrulous with too much champagne. “You don’t need a beach or surfboard to consummate the marriage, although sex on a surfboard ... mmm.” 

”Rose, please!” 

She threw her bouquet of yellow roses. 

Finn caught it.


	2. Chapter 2

His apartment was lovely. The building that housed it was Art Deco inspired. 

Her room was what had been the guest room. He’d had a desk installed with a new laptop and printer. 

She had a housekeeper, a black credit card and a 24 hour concierge service. 

She had no debt at all. 

She also had nothing to worry about. That worried her. 

Four days after the wedding was their first social together at a really lovely hotel. There was dinner, then speeches, and then dancing. 

Dinner was wonderful and she tried to follow the speeches in order to better understand the business he was in. There were a lot of in-house jokes and asides. No matter, she had time. 

She thought he’d ask her to dance, but no, he just had a few people to catch up with, back in a minute. 

She sat for over half an hour alone and self conscious at their table. People glanced at her then looked away quickly if they caught her eye. The insecurity she wore like a comfort blanket kicked in. They could see past the hair and makeup, the expensive dress, and see a scavenger, someone who didn’t belong, she was sure of it. 

”Hi!” she looked up, a tall blond man with deep brown eyes was smiling down at her. 

”You’re Ben’s wife, right? I’m Matt. A beautiful woman ought not to be sitting alone, and _you_ are a beautiful woman. Would you care to dance?” 

His pick up line was cheesy, but she was bored and felt exposed. She gratefully accepted his offer, anything to be part of a crowd. 

The band was playing classics and people were waltzing. He took her in his arms and she melted into him, quite unselfconsciously, hearing his intake of breath as she did so. 

They moved across the dance floor. She was a graceful dancer, a competent one – actually, more than competent. 

He commented on it. 

”Thank you, I love to dance. I took classes with friends a while back, Latin mainly, but I can waltz and foxtrot too.” 

”Good to know,” his voice was cheerful, upbeat. “Did Ben go too?” 

She lowered her eyes not wanting him to see the expression of embarrassment in them, “No, no he didn’t.” 

She felt on dangerous ground and turned the subject. 

The song changed, but he didn’t return her to her table, just kept holding her in his arms and dancing. 

”So, how’s married life?” 

She made a conscious effort to meet his eyes, “Married life is great. Thank you.” 

”Hey, remind me how you two met.” 

She was feeling uncomfortable having to elaborate further with lies, “Oh, we met at a restaurant and got talking, you know.” 

He was persistent in knowing the ins and outs of their relationship, “So you’ve known each other a long time?” 

”Long enough,” she started to feel uncomfortable. Something wasn’t right, this guy was fishing for information she felt sure. 

She turned the subject, “Hey, how about you, are you married? Or am I upsetting a significant other dancing with you all this while?” 

It was the right question to ask, it threw him and he seemed uncomfortable with the thought he was married, “Oh hell no!” 

”Oh, don’t you believe in marriage?” she took advantage of his reaction, putting pressure on him. 

He was quick to cover his reaction, “No, not at all. Did I sound rude?” 

She tried to keep him wrong-footed, “A little.” 

He was floundering a little, saying he guessed that he just hadn’t met the right girl. He made a recovery, “And Ben snapped _you_ up before I had a chance.” She made a barfing sound and they both laughed, his questioning, thankfully, at an end. 

The music finished and she took control, thanking him and asking him to escort her to her table. 

Ben was bearing down on them, glaring at Matt, who made the mistake of greeting him like a long lost friend and got snapped at for his trouble. 

Matt ploughed on, oblivious, “Hey, Ben, I saw your wife sitting all alone and danced with her. She’s a really great dancer.” 

Matt’s breezy tones didn’t stop his remark coming out sounding as a reproach for Ben’s neglect of her - and patronising. 

She saw Ben’s fists clench and reached out to clasp his hand. 

”Sweetheart, do you want to dance with me now?” 

He did, and swept her onto the dance floor making sure to jostle Matt with his shoulder as he passed. 

He swung her around and she melted into him perfectly, at ease in his arms. 

He looked down at her, Matt hadn’t exaggerated, where had she learnt to dance? 

She repeated herself. 

”Ben,” she tried not to sound needy, “where have you been? I felt so exposed while you were gone; no-one spoke to me, except Matt, and you were gone for the longest time.” 

”Baby, I’m sorry, it’s just that some people are difficult to get away from. I did try, but just couldn’t break free.” He spoke tight-lipped, in truth he was mad at Matt (the weasel from legal), and at himself for his obvious neglect of her. 

”It’s ok, I guess, it happens.” 

She noticed his tie wasn’t straight and his hair was a little out of shape. She adjusted and smoothed before they headed back to the table. She felt very wifely. 

They had five happy months, well, she was happy. 

She passed her exams with flying colours and her assessments were rated exemplary. She secured a position at a private clinic specialising in treating sportsmen’s injuries, as a junior physiotherapist. The pay was good, with the strong possibility of promotion. 

He was genuinely pleased for her and took her out to celebrate. She thanked him for all his support, for making it all possible. 

He waved her thanks off and raised his glass in a toast to her. He pecked her cheek when they got home. They went to their separate rooms. 

+++++ 

She learned about her husband’s mistress in a time honoured way – standing in a stall in the ladies room. 

She’d flushed and was making sure her long gown wasn’t caught at the back in her panties – long story, recurring nightmare. The outer door opened and the voices of two or three women disturbed the peace. 

”Well, I think she totally can’t know,” said one voice. “She’s young and pretty, why would she take his crap otherwise?” 

”Um, hello, he’s mega rich and she’s set for life?” interposed another voice. 

”Well Solo is intense. Maybe she needs a break from him and doesn’t mind,” chimed in another. 

”Whatever! He’s Bazine’s and that’s not gonna change any day soon.” 

Rey felt her heart grow heavy, like a stone in her chest. 

The three chattered on, then there was the spritz of perfume bottles and they left the restroom. 

She made her way back to their table. 

”Hi, beautiful,” he said as she took her seat. “I was getting worried, everything alright?” 

”Everything’s just peachy,” she said, looking at him through completely different eyes. 

His tie was slightly crooked and his hair not as groomed as when they left home. This always seemed to happen at socials sponsored by his firm. 

This time she didn’t lift her hands to set him to rights. 

In the days that followed, she went about on autopilot, going through the motions of their daily life at home. This didn’t mean her brain wasn’t active. No, her brain was never silent, even in sleep, it exhausted her. 

Her brain worked out that maybe he’d married her to cover an affair. An affair with a work colleague named Bazine. Why would he do that? If he was free and so was she ... oh, is she a married woman? 

She logged onto his firm’s website, searched under Meet the First Order. There she was, Bazine Netal, Financial Officer at First Order. A dark haired woman looked back at her. You can tell a lot, Rey mused, from a profile picture. 

She logged out and googled her rival’s name. She was married to some poor sucker called Poe Dameron, Chief Political Advisor to Senator Leia Organa. He was engaged in an illicit affair with another man’s wife. How wrong could you be about a person – not a question. 

+++++ 

An opportunity came to break the cycle of their routine with a text from Rose, whom she’d shamefully neglected, asking if she’d like to come with them to a salsa evening. No pressure. Hubby could come too. 

She replied she’d love to ... sans husband. 

When she told him she was out Saturday night with friends, he looked a little taken aback and then disappointed. She felt guilty but pushed through it, knowing she had to build an independent life now or be annihilated when the day came to cast her aside – as it surely would. The terms of the pre-nup made so much more sense now. 

The club was crowded and hot. She was quite tentative at first with her friends; after all she had neglected them in pursuit of domestic bliss. They proved to be wonderfully forgiving and soon the familiar pattern of friendship was resumed. 

She danced with Finn, with her girl friends, and anyone who asked whom she knew. She gradually loosened up and felt free and joyful dancing. She stayed longer than she intended and it was past midnight when she exited the club with her friends – a cab waiting to take her home. 

She hugged the four of them tightly and thanked them with tears in her eyes. They hugged and kissed her and thanked her for her company. 

She got home about 12.45, taking off her shoes as she exited the elevator in order to disturb no-one with the click of her heels on the uncarpeted hallway. 

She carefully locked their apartment door behind her and crossed the living space toward her bedroom. 

Ben had left a lamp burning for her she noted with gratitude. Although not drunk by any means, she was buzzed from her evening and didn’t want to go crashing into furniture. Hi,” a sleepy voice called from the couch. Ben had waited up, rising up from the couch dressed in his jim-jams, hair well tousled, “did you have a good time?” 

”Yes, thank you. I did. Sorry I’m so late, but I lost track of time. I didn’t expect you to wait up for me.” 

”That’s ok, I couldn’t sleep anyway. Can I make you some tea?” 

”No, thank you. I’m gonna turn in.” Ok, we still on for the Sunday market?” Why did his voice sound hopeful? 

”Sure, I’ll set my alarm.” 

”Goodnight then, Rey.” 

”Goodnight Ben.” 

+++++ 

She was out more with her friends after that. Cultivating friendships at work too, but always checking with Ben first before accepting an invitation in case she was needed. 

She had her friends over for Thanksgiving, with Ben’s agreement. They got on well with him and it was a pleasant, relaxed dinner. 

Rose was enamoured with him, gushing over him for days. 

’He’s totally a babe magnet’, she texted. 

Rey could only agree, especially slim, black haired babes with hard eyes, a predatory look and morals that would embarrass an alley cat. 

’Yes he is’, she texted back, ‘he totally is’. 

+++++ 

It was at the firm’s in-house Christmas do she finally had her confirmation of his affair with a married woman. They were sat together and she noticed him check his watch a couple of times. 

”Rey, I just gotta make an important phone call. Is it ok if I leave you for ten?” there was a pleading note to his voice. That was new. 

”Sure, Ben, go make your call.” 

He must have picked up the dry, resigned note in her voice, because he shot her a searching look. 

She recovered and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Go, go make your call,” she urged, putting a ‘don’t mind about me’ tone in her voice. 

”If you’re sure,” he said his composure slipping and showing anxiety in his look. 

”I’m sure,” she smiled at him, a little tightly, making a shooing motion with her hand. 

He hesitated then leaned in kissing her cheek, “I won’t be long, I promise.” 

’Sure you won’t’, this was said to herself as he walked away. He left her by herself, on average, a half to three quarters of an hour usually. 

Her eyes cast around the room, Bazine was discreetly moving through the crowd, heading to where Ben had gone. 

Rey moved swiftly and unobtrusively through the revellers, in pursuit. She could hear Bazine’s heels clacking down a staircase and took off her own shoes. 

The hallway below was in darkness, ahead a soft light. 

It was conference room where the assignation was taking place, lit by a single task light, the lovers already locked in a passionate embrace, with Bazine’s hands fisting and tugging his hair. They broke apart, her hands now loosening his tie, pulling him against her as she lay back on the desk, Ben’s hands shooting out to brace him either side of her, the woman’s legs wrapping around his thighs. 

Slipping back to the party, she decided to head out. No-one would miss her, certainly not the two married people a floor below.


	3. Chapter 3

She stepped out onto the street clutching her thin evening coat around her, the cold night air hitting her face and body like ice water thrown over her. 

”I need a drink!” She spoke out loud to herself and to the darkened city, “Maybe two.” She laughed a touch hysterically into the cold night air. There was a small bar a block to her right. 

The heat of the bar was wonderful after the cold of the street and she shivered again, trying to shake off the aura of cold which surrounded her. 

”Whisky and dry, please,” she replied to the barkeep’s inquiry. 

Her drink was set before her and she sipped at it, appreciating its warmth. 

”Is that a British accent I hear?” A man two stools down was addressing her. 

”What’s left of it,” she replied, raising her glass in salute, parking her usual reserve. 

He laughed - a soft rumble. 

She looked him over. Long wavy hair, moustache and goatee beard which darkened his face, although his skin was pale. He was dressed in a business suit complete with tie. 

His eyes approximated the colour of the whisky he was sipping. She got a good vibe from him. 

”May I?” He pointed to the stool next to her. 

She hesitated, and then nodded. 

He moved, and when he stood she could see how tall and broad he was. Like Ben, her cheating fake husband. Yup, she definitely had a type. 

”What’s this,” he remarked as he settled onto the stool taking in her hair and makeup, the expensive evening coat and shoes, “all dressed up and nowhere to go?” 

”Was somewhere, but decided not to be,” she winced internally at her bitter tone. 

He turned on the stool so he could meet her eyes. She altered position too and met his gaze. His eyes took in her wedding and engagement rings. 

”Ah!” 

”Ah!” she affirmed. 

”A trouble shared is a troubled halved, so they say.” 

”They also say let sleeping dogs lie.” She flashed the warm smile which drew people to her, drawing any sting from her words. “I just want to finish my drink, call a cab and go home.” At that her stomach gave a ferocious growl and she let out a peal of laughter, “And maybe get something to eat on the way.” 

He was grinning back at her, showing dimples which softened his hard look. 

”There’s an Italian place just around the corner. Could I persuade you to join me; I could use some food myself?” 

She tilted her head and looked at him. Those eyes of his were smiling at her. The colour of whisky she mused, single malt, aged twelve years in American oak casks. 

Bottoms! Had she said that out loud, because he was grinning at her again? 

Questioning the wisdom of stepping out into a darkened city from a bar with a strange man to an Italian restaurant ‘just around the corner’ never crossed her mind. 

+++++ 

A small, unpretentious family run business. The stranger ushered her through the door and the interior was so small it was two steps in to the host’s station. Her companion was obviously known to them. 

There was bustle and a ‘Good evening Mr. Ren’ from several voices. A man, who she later learned was the owner, stepped quickly up to them and grasped Mr. Ren’s hand in a two handed grip giving her a beatific smile as she was ushered to their table. 

So, Mr. Ren wasn’t an axe murderer then, perfectly safe to be with him – at least in public. 

She shrugged off her evening coat, revealing her matching black cocktail dress. Mr. Ren’s face seemed to express the belief all his Christmases had come at once. She laughed softly at his open mouthed appreciation of her dress and preened a little. He snapped out of his stupefaction. 

She held out her hand and introduced herself, “Rey.” He shook it and returned the courtesy, “Kylo.” 

They took their places and breadsticks and olives were set before them. 

”What wine would you like me to order?” he enquired. 

”Could I leave that up to you? I’m not familiar with Italian wines,” she replied. 

”Ok, I’ll order a red from Puglia, you’ll enjoy it,” he spoke with confidence. 

Then there was the business of ordering food. When that was done and she sipped her first taste of the wine, she was able to relax. 

”So, what do you do to earn a crust?” 

”I’m a security specialist working for one of the big corporations.” 

That explained his presence in the business sector and she politely inquired what that involved. 

”Mainly making sure data is kept safe.” 

He had given her an answer but not elaborated, so she respected his privacy and didn’t inquire further. 

”And what do you do to earn a crust?” it was a polite rejoinder, so she answered as briefly. 

”Oh, I work for a private clinic which specialises in treating sportsmen’s injuries, as a physiotherapist.” 

”Do you enjoy your job? Again it was small talk they were exchanging so she kept her answer brief. 

”Very much so, I enjoy help heal people.” 

The preliminary courtesies exchanged, after that they chatted easily. 

Like her, he’d been at a party, but he didn’t really do parties. He’d caught the eye of his boss to prove he’d turned out, and then quietly slipped away. She could take it from there. 

Well, she’d been at a party too, her husband’s firm’s Christmas do. Like him, it had suddenly got too much, you know, people – situations. She thought about Ben and Bazine and, sitting across from her, he saw real pain reflected in her eyes before she lowered them. 

”Hey”, he spoke softly, “it’s not so bad.” She looked up quickly. “I’m doing alright, I’ve picked up a beautiful woman and am wining and dining her. Say, you could say the same, except you’ve picked up a handsome man!” 

Her smile came at that, wide and brilliant, echoed in her eyes and crinkling her nose. 

Raising her glass, she proposed a toast, to handsome men found in bars. 

He raised his own glass, to beautiful women wearing little black dresses. The glasses clinked together, a bell like sound. “Mmm,” she made an appreciative sound as she sipped, “I do like this wine. Thank you.” 

”Lady, it’s my absolute pleasure.” 

The ice finally broken, they drank and ate and chatted. She was the most restful woman he’d ever kept company with. He thought of the coolness of her touch as she shook his hand. He’d like to feel that hand stroke his brow, his neck, his everywhere. She said she liked to heal. Lady, he thought, come heal me – like forever. 

The plates were cleared. 

”Could I tempt you with dessert?” 

She patted her stomach, replete, “No. Thank you, but no.” 

”What about coffee instead?” 

”That would be lovely, a cappuccino please.” 

Coffee was served along with complimentary Sambuca, complete with coffee bean floating on top and flame. She blew hers out and left the glass to cool as she sipped her coffee. His was plain black Robusta bean. She’d chosen milder Arabica, but it still delivered a kick through the foam. 

As they sipped, conversation slowed, both aware their time together was drawing to a close. 

She spoke first. 

”Thank you for this evening, I was feeling pretty low and this helped – a lot.” 

He leaned back in the booth, his head resting against the squabs of the banquette, ”About that, I take it someone or something got in the way of you having a good time at your party?” 

He was inviting confidences and suddenly she wanted to share. 

She fiddled nervously with the coffee spoon in her saucer, not meeting his eyes. 

”About eight months ago I got married. I got married in good faith, it’s important you know that. After about five months I overheard a conversation which suggested he was conducting an affair. Of course, I had to go digging and it seemed he was, with a married woman. Tonight I saw them together and he absolutely is, no doubts.” 

She looked up at him. He was still leaning back against the banquette, unmoving but listening. 

”So I have to ask myself, why did he marry me? I believe he wants a sexual relationship with this woman but he absolutely doesn’t want to marry her, and he’s made me the reason he can’t.” 

”I take it you had a different take on the relationship?” His voice was a low, comforting rumble. 

She nodded. “I allowed myself to dream we would stay together forever and raise a family.” 

”Looking back,” she continued, “at the time, he was anxious to get married by the end of the month. I’m wondering if that’s significant. I’m wondering how long the affair has been going on. I’m wondering so many things I feel ill wondering.” 

”I want to go home now and pretend everything is fine. I’m fine. I left him locked in the arms of his lover at an event hosted by his firm and walked out on him. I know I’ll have to explain that, but I don’t want to. It’s a mess,” the distraught look was back on her face. 

”Who is she?” 

”A work colleague; I checked on the First Order website and she’s in the finance department.” 

She was still fiddling with the coffee spoon so missed the twitch under his left eye. 

There was silence between them, not a comfortable one. 

At last he spoke, “I take it you didn’t confront them?” 

No, I just followed them. They went a floor down to a conference room. I saw them embracing and left before the main event.” She grimaced, “I’ve noticed he generally leaves me for about half to three quarters of an hour when it’s a social his firm is hosting. So I just got my purse, checked out my coat, the rest you know.” 

”Do you think he’s been meeting her at the socials?” 

”I’m sure of it. Matt usually sits with me or dances with me if there’s live music. I like to dance,” she was rambling so stopped speaking. 

”I think I like Matt. So you dance?” 

She met his eyes, nodding, “I do. I’ve picked up the reins of the social life I had before I married since I found out about Bazine. I became aware it could all end tomorrow and I didn’t want to go down in flames if it did.” 

She had lowered her eyes before mentioning Bazine by name, and missed a second twitch under the left eye. 

He leant forward, arms folded on the table. 

”If you don’t want to get into it with him, why don’t you just say you weren’t feeling well, couldn’t find him and left? You ran into an old friend who took you off to their place and you got a cab home when you felt better.” 

It suddenly occurred to her she had no idea how long she’d been missing. A glance at her Rolex showed she’d been in Kylo’s company almost three hours. 

”Maker, I’ve been with you three hours! It’s almost eleven!” 

She looked around. Tables were cleared and prepped for the next day. Only the owner remained, seated behind the bar quietly reading a newspaper. 

”Maker, Kylo, the restaurant’s closed and we’ve kept this man from his home!” She was panicking now, how had this happened? Clearly, Kylo had a lot of clout that they weren’t given the bill and a hint to leave. 

”Whoa, princess,” he was laughing at her. “Rein it back a little. It’s all good.” 

Still she felt panic. 

Kylo was standing in front of her now, holding out his hands to help her rise out of the booth. As they walked to the bar his arm slipped around her waist in a loose embrace. She was so frazzled by the lost hours she didn’t really compute this. 

”Ah, you go now?” 

”Yes,” jumped in Rey, “and I’m so sorry for keeping you.” 

”No problem, lady, anything for Mr. Ren, I get your coat.” 

He helped Rey on with her coat, Kylo pulling the front together and fastening it. She stilled under his hands, suddenly conscious of the intimacy of the act. 

”The bill, Kylo, I’ll pay the bill,” she stuttered. 

”Don’t worry, princess, it’s all taken care of.” 

”No, I’ll pay it, or at least my half and the wine.” 

He clasped her restless hands in his, “Princess, please listen – it’s all taken care of.” 

She looked into those whisky coloured eyes, realising how flustered and panicked she was compared to him and the soft amusement reflected in them at her spiralling – her life until Ben had been one of self reliance, she instinctively didn’t like being beholden. 

She took a deep breath, centring herself. “Ok, I’m ok now.” 

He laughed softly, “‘bout time.” 

He turned to the restaurant owner and thanked him for their evening, shaking his hand. 

She stepped forward and thanked him too, putting out her own slim hand; the restaurateur clasped it with both of his. 

”You got a nice touch, lady.” 

She blushed. 

Then he was heading for the door to usher them out and she realised she needed a cab home. 

”It’s all taken care of, princess.” 

Sure enough, a black limousine was waiting outside. 

How? When? She looked at him, her confusion evident. 

He winked at her, “just give the driver your address and he’ll take you home.” 

His arm was looped around her, sheltering her from the worst of the wind with his big, warm body. 

There was so much she wanted to say to him, but he was dressed only in a thin suit and the night was even colder than before. 

She managed a ‘thank you, Kylo’, but he was opening the car door for her and urging her in. 

”Take care, princess,” the door closed and he was stepping back away from the car. 

”Where to, ma’am?” the driver was asking, looking at her through the rear view mirror. 

She leaned forward giving her address, when she looked back Kylo was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

She had to understand, he’d been worried sick, frantic even. Minutes from calling the cops – minutes! 

She must never do that again, no matter what she must never do that again. 

Why did she leave? Had someone done something, said something? She must tell him. 

Where had she been? Had she been with someone? Who was it? How did she get home? Why had it taken her so long to get home? 

The questions came thick and fast punctuated by hugs, him rocking their bodies together arms wrapped tight around her pressing kisses into her hair. 

He tipped her head back with one large hand, staring into her eyes, searching her face as though for answers. 

She held him by the waist as she explained. She suddenly hadn’t wanted to be there. He had left her for so long she had had time to think and she decided she didn’t want to be there, with people – with situations. A tremor crossed his face at these words and he tucked her head under his chin, burying his face in her hair. 

Maker, Rey, he sounded anguished, where had she gone then? He’d searched for her, searched every inch of the building until he discovered her coat had been checked out. He’d come straight home sure she was there, but she wasn’t. Had she any idea how that felt? 

She’d gone to a bar. It was so cold outside she’d gone to a bar and had a whiskey and dry. It had warmed her up. She was going to drink her drink and then call a cab and go home, but she found she was hungry, really hungry. There was a small Italian restaurant close by and she went there and ate dinner. Then she came home. 

She’d been gone over four hours. How long does it take to eat dinner? 

Well, she had to walk to the bar and then walk to the restaurant. Oh, and drink her drink and wait on dinner and a cab. It all took time. 

He looked deeply into her eyes, meeting her clear gaze. 

Ok, but she must never do such a thing again. Why had she not answered his calls and texts? Was she angry at him? Did she want to worry him – hurt him? 

No, no. She had forgot she’d put her phone on do not disturb for the duration – while they were at the party - so sorry, so sorry. 

She was pulled into another hug, felt kisses peppering her hair. 

”Ben...” 

”Yes, sweetheart?” his tone was tender. 

”I’m not going to go to anymore work socials. It’s not right that you leave me alone an hour at a time with no-one to speak to, except Matt. If you want to end the marriage because of that, that’s ok, for me that’s not a problem.” 

She drew a breath, knowing she was about to hurt him, “It’s humiliating and demeaning to abandon me for..., “she hesitated before settling on, “... whatever.” 

He reflected on those last two words and the pause before ‘whatever’, suddenly wondering if she knew about Bazine. 

Oh god, if she knew... how could she know? 

He temporised. 

”Sweetheart, this is a big subject and we are both tired. Let’s go to bed and sleep this night away. We have tomorrow together and we can talk this out, but, sweetheart, no way am I ending this marriage. We’ll find a way through this, we will, but promise me Rey, you won’t end this marriage because I won’t and I don’t want you to either.” 

She caught the notes in his voice of fear and panic and pleading. 

She got her hands free and put them against his neck, her thumbs stroking his jawline. 

His eyes closed against her cool touch. She’d been told she had a healer’s hands; they were cool but never cold in their touch. They seemed to be working now, the tension draining from Ben’s face. 

She cupped his cheeks and drew her thumbs across his brow. He gave a small sigh. She moved to his forehead, massaging just before his temples, then she laid a hand across his forehead and a hand across the back of his neck and held him. 

She felt his tension and worry ebb away underneath her hands. When she felt calm flowing through him, she let go standing silently before him. He stood before her, eyes closed, arms looped loosely around her. 

He opened his eyes with such a soft expression in them, she just knew he was going to kiss her. He drew her in and bent his head. She dipped her head last moment so that his now tainted lips pressed against her forehead. Let him keep his kisses for his lover. 

”Goodnight Ben.” 

A pause, then, “Goodnight Rey.” 

He released her, reluctantly, and she turned without another word and walked into her bedroom, not looking back and closing the door firmly behind her. 

She couldn’t get to sleep, tossing and turning her mind burning up with anxiety and speculation, joined by a deep aching sense of loneliness in her heart. Her bedroom door clicked open. She raised herself up to see a large black shape silhouetted against the unlit grey of the apartment. 

”Ben ... what the hell!” 

”Rey, I can’t sleep. I’m too anxious. Please, I need your arms around me. Can we bundle.” 

”Ben,” her tone was sharp, “I’m not having sex with you, if that’s what you’re hoping for here. Trust me, that’s not gonna happen.” 

His tone was wounded, as though she’d totally misunderstood him, “No, no. I just need to bundle. Please, Rey, please,” his tone was now that of a needy child, not that of an adult male touting for sex, so she gave in. 

”Ok, Ben, but one wrong move and I’m blacking your eye,” her tone was fierce as she shifted out from the middle of the bed. 

He literally sprinted over the floor and into her bed, pulling her against him, he the big spoon. One arm twined around her waist whilst the other made a pillow on his bicep for her. He kissed her hair and then moved it to plant a kiss on her neck. 

She growled out a warning. He snuggled back down, sorry, so sorry. 

Her body was tense at first, but as his breathing slowed down and deepened her body relaxed. 

He was so warming, unmoving behind her, his face buried in her hair. 

Another beguiling fantasy manifested itself, her treacherous mind collaborating with her needy heart. 

They had just made love and were snuggling down to sleep – bundling together for comfort and warmth, the two of them against the world. 

Mind and heart added little details, embellishments, intimacies, creating a comforting safe cocoon in which to hide from the realities of their union. Her mind so anaesthetised, she fell into a deep, deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The moment Rey walked into the bar Kylo Ren figuratively licked his lips and determined he was going to get her into his bed, or any bed, by the end of the evening. In fact, if someone would kindly throw a mattress into the bar he’d take her then and there. 

She was not of the bar’s usual clientele and this was the business district. At first he’d thought escort, high class call girl on her way to or from an assignation – an overpaid executive’s Christmas gift to himself. 

She responded positively to his initial offer of company and he’d reckoned he was home free. However, up close, her beauty and the undoubted quality of her clothing and jewellery prompted a hasty reassessment, especially in view of the solitaire engagement ring and gold Rolex. 

She was vague about the reasons for leaving her party, but it hinted at troubles in her marriage. It had seemed she would shortly be on her way home and his heart sank, but then her stomach had growled and he’d impulsively offered to buy her dinner. What had happened to his hit and run game? What was he, twelve years old? 

He was euphoric when she stepped out into the street with him, accompanying him to dinner, though he had to fight not to scold her for her foolishness. 

He reckoned her watch and engagement ring represented over $30,000 at least, though he’d have to get a jeweller’s glass on the diamond to check the clarity – thirty grand a ballpark figure until then. Yet here she was heels clicking keeping pace with him her arm linked in his, pressed to his side for warmth not even knowing his name, without a thought to the safety of either her virtue or possessions. 

When she removed her evening coat, it slipping languidly down her arms into the waiter’s waiting hands; he thought he was going to combust. She couldn’t (didn’t) wear a bra under that sheer black stuff across her breasts – nipples concealed by vertical lines of sequins the soft swell of her bosoms all too evident. 

He’d stood there gaping like a hormonal seventeen year old not a sexually experienced man, and he was so glad to fold his body into the booth and hide his erection under the tablecloth. 

The dress stopped mid thigh and as she sat down swinging her legs – knees and ankles primly together – under the table, her glorious legs were on display briefly practically to her underwear. Yeah, he was grateful for the cover of the tablecloth. 

She was easy to talk to too. One of the reasons he didn’t do permanent relationships was his lack of small talk and thoughtfulness with women. The sex he was good at, romantic gestures not so much. 

His ears pricked up at the mention of First Order, and then again at the name Bazine. 

There were rumours Bazine Netal had hooked up with Ben Solo, heir apparent to old man Snoke. He’d investigated but could find no corroborating evidence. The rumours persisted though, and she was certainly possessive of him and less than thrilled when he married. 

The gorgeous woman sitting opposite him then, was Ben Solo’s wife, Rey Solo. 

He would make it his business as Head of Security First Order to investigate further. Given what Rey had told him, there would be video evidence now and he could scoot back aways through the security tapes the last eight months when First Order was hosting in-house events. 

Eventually he had to part from her. He hoped, but had no expectation, that she would ask him to take her to his bed. She hadn’t, but if she had he would have claimed her as his own and kept her – her dick husband could then go whistle. 

Before he headed for home he fired off a text, taking the first steps investigating just what the hell was going on between Bazine Netal and Ben Solo. 

+++++ 

They awoke at the same time, both fogged with sleep, languid and relaxed. They hadn’t moved much in sleep and he was more or less still twined around her, their legs tangling in the night locking them together. 

He pulled back her hair and kissed her neck wishing her ‘Good morning, beautiful’ a part of him which hadn’t been there the night before pressing against her ass. 

However, it was the cold light of day and she could be strong and not seek consolation and refuge in dreams, or daydreams even, and kicked him out of bed. He was laughing as he left her room, heading for the bathroom. 

She lay there thinking. Did she ignore what she’d seen last night? Did she ask him for clarification? Could she deal with whatever justification he had for trapping her in this marriage? For sure she now saw it as a trap – he was celibate her ass. What had she been thinking? 

He was in the doorway of her room, hands either side of the doorframe leaning in. His hair was damp and he had a towel wrapped around his waist, chest and legs bare. He sure was packing muscle. 

It’s all yours sweetheart he said. He smirked at her and then casually turned and stalked back to his room. Her eyes narrowed – this was new. 

Emerging from the bathroom herself, dressed in a robe, she heard him call out, a light-hearted ‘sweetheart, breakfast is ready’. Ok, she’d figure this out. 

Dressed and sipping her tea as he pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast toward her (she’d shared with him the dark arts of the chef at the Connaught), he seemed relaxed and chatty. They had become somewhat domesticated in the months before she had learned of Bazine so his behaviour now was familiar, but somehow it was... more, more than it had been before 

He was chatty, too, asking what she wanted to do today. 

Reluctantly she answered him, “I was going to shop for a few small gifts, and then I’m done.” 

He was immediately onboard and enthusiastic, “That’s great. I’m great at gift shopping, I’ll help you choose! Hey, didn’t you want a tree for the apartment? We can buy a tree later, but meanwhile we’ll shop for lights and ornaments as I’ve never bothered with one before. It will be great!” 

Her heart sank. She had wanted a tree, but now it seemed pointless to have one. The image of Bazine and him crossed her mind, passionately entwined together. Bazine was his love and, knowing that, she couldn’t bear to play at happy families. 

”About that, you know, maybe a tree would be more bother than it’s worth. We can get a centrepiece for the dinner table, but other than that...,” her voice trailed off, she shrugged apathetically. 

He was upbeat, not put off at all. “Nonsense, this is our first Christmas together, let’s start as we mean to go on. Anyway, it will make the apartment festive and welcoming for when your friends visit. I’ll see about the tree later, but for sure we’ll buy lights and ornaments today.” 

There was no stopping him, but at last she thought she understood him. Yesterday had rattled him and he was overcompensating. Which put her in a quandary - did she ask him to explain about Bazine or did she carry on as before? 

The thing was, if he was going to be this way it was going to be difficult not to end up rowing with him. They were not a couple, they were not really married, and there was nothing to save. She would be glad to get back to work she decided. 

Outside was freezing, a biting wind. They were both wrapped up warmly in thick coats wearing hats, gloves and scarves. He held her hand as they headed for the subway, caging her in the crowded car one arm hugging her to him. 

She couldn’t look at him, resting her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes the entire journey, his chin resting on top of her head. 

They rode the escalator out onto the street. He had an arm around her as they ascended; standing behind her with his body pressed against hers, his chin resting on her shoulder until just before they stepped off. His arm hugged her to him, laid across her shoulders as they walked to the store. She imagined what they must look like, a young couple in love – him leaning in intimately toward his girl. 

They shopped and he stood in close as she made her purchases, catching at her hand as they moved from department to department. Choosing the baubles was fun. Although she tried not to get involved, nevertheless she was drawn in by his enthusiasm and the prettiness of the decorations. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted, so she just went with whatever he chose, offering a smile or nod of approval at his selections. 

Again that shy lovable little boy side of him was dominant. She could imagine him, Christmas morning, a small boy in his jammies hair flopping forward over his face as he padded excitedly toward the tree to check what Santa had brought him. 

It was an adorable image and she decided then and there she wouldn’t hurt him – if she could she wouldn’t hurt him. 

+++++ 

They stopped for lunch – he’d made reservations at a large, fashionable Italian restaurant. They sat in the booth piling up packages between them, divesting themselves of coats, scarves and gloves and piling them on top. She kept her beanie on, her chestnut hair flowing over her shoulders. 

They ordered a glass of wine each and then their food. As they settled, she decided to be direct and asked him what was going on with him. He looked startled at the question and she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. He reached out a hand to her and there was something like pleading in his face. She took hold of it, both her hands clasping his. 

Next, he needed to sit next to her. They moved everything from between them and inched close together, building a berm of purchases and coats and things between them and the other diners. He wrapped her in his arms and leaned in whispering to her she mustn’t think it was all business between them, there was also affection. Or at least he felt affection for her, and today he needed to express that. 

She pondered over that. Did he still mean like friends? Yes. Really good friends who had each other’s back and offered companionship and cuddles when the other was down. 

Was he down? Yes, a little. And he felt down because? His arms tightened and he pressed his face into the soft wool of her beanie. Because ... because he’d once made a terrible mistake which now threatened to tear something very precious away from him. 

She pondered on this, raising a hand to stroke his hands which were clasped together over her shoulder his arms wound around her. She could do friends she told him, the sort of friend he needed right now, but he mustn’t get her to believe he wanted more if friendship was truly all they had. Did he understand? Yes, yes he did, and he was so grateful, so thankful for her. 

She turned in his arms; one hand pressed to his back the other to his cheek. The contrast was startling - rock hard muscle under her right hand, soft pale skin under her left. She pulled his head toward her and placed a kiss upon his lips. Just a press of her lips again his. Then she pulled his head down so their foreheads touched,”Ok, ok, but, Ben, I really think we need to talk - when you’re ready, but soon.” 

He lowered his head onto her shoulder and pressed his head against hers. She felt him nod. 

Then their wine arrived and shortly after their food and they had to get on with the business of eating and drinking – bodies pressed close together at hip and knee. 

It was actually a pleasant lunch despite inauspicious beginnings, and they talked about everything and nothing; more than they’d ever talked before, but not a word or an allusion to Bazine. Then it was time to get moving, to mop up the last bits of shopping on her list and head for home. 

+++++ 

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed pleasantly, he cooked she ate. The store had delivered the baubles and lights and tomorrow, he said, they‘d go fetch their tree – the concierge had given him directions to where they could buy a real one. 

She’d thought about his words regarding his affair with Bazine, this, she was guessing was the mistake. Because of the affair, he’d put his career at risk. 

Was this because of HR rules regarding employee relationships, or had she or he drawn the other into wrongdoing? She just had to be patient. She was good at that. Nothing in her life had come easy; it was only by hanging on and persisting she’d made the best of her chances. Fortitude had stood her in good stead when the odds seemed stacked against her. 

She just had to wait on Ben. She was good at waiting too. 

+++++ 

She’d slept well again, after initially tossing and turning – and awoke warm and cosy and feeling safe. Then she realised why. 

Someone was in bed with her, that someone holding her against his chest, an arm around her shoulders and an arm around her waist, anchoring her. 

She couldn’t really see his face with the angle he was holding her, and anyway his hair was flopping forward. He was, however, deeply asleep. She took the line of least resistance and laid her head back down. At least her body was angled away from his morning wood – at the moment. 

They needed to talk about this (another item on the agenda). She was a twenty three year old virgin and he was having a sexual liaison with a married woman who was not his wife, who, presumably, was also having sex with her own husband. 

She was dozing when he awoke. Moving himself gently from under her and pressing a kiss into her hair. She loved the intimacy of the action, she loved the thought of being part of something where such intimacies were given and received. 

She needed to talk to Ben about how open their marriage was. Could she take a lover too? She had been very attracted to Kylo Ren, and had he asked her she would have gone home with him – but he hadn’t. Maybe someone else would want her, Matt for instance – though that might be awkward for Ben. 

Ben was calling that the bathroom was free, time to start her day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this chapter contains serious angst.
> 
> Ben expresses jealousy toward Rey and the Skywalker in him is very evident.
> 
> She finally snaps and confronts him about Bazine.
> 
> There is an angry scene and Rey breaks down.
> 
> If any of these themes are likely to disturb you don't read this chapter, you will pick up the gist of what happened in Chapter 7. Thank you.

They had a busy Sunday. First to the local Farmer’s Market, the last one until after the New Year celebration, and then walking to the small city florist recommended by their concierge, who were doing a (profitable) sideline in Xmas trees, stored in the yard at the back of the shop. 

They bought one about six feet tall and decided to carry it home with them rather than wait for a delivery the next day – Christmas Eve. It was a challenge but they managed it. 

Ben had paid out for a metal contraption which held the tree securely upright, and had a small oasis to keep the tree refreshed. They situated it but agreed to wait until the next day to dress the tree. 

Ben bought lots of goodies from the market and they had a food delivery early next morning. Her friends had already left for their visits to family and friends. Ben had invited them to dinner in the New Year, when they will distribute the gifts. 

Had she known how the First Order Christmas party would go down, she would have invited them for drinks, nibbles and gift giving at the apartment, letting Ben go by himself. He wouldn’t have had to hide his assignation with Bazine then. Still, that’s the last First Order social she will attend. 

It was the two of them over the holiday, their housekeeper returning early January, until then they will be playing at house together. She isn’t sure about New Years Eve; maybe they’ll just stay in the apartment and watch the countdown on the television (her friends will still be away). She must remember to ask Ben. 

It’s while she’s helping dress the tree that she brought up the subject of how open was their relationship? He stared at her, his face unreadable and she felt both nervous and uncomfortable under his gaze – his eyes are black, no trace of warmth in them. 

+++++ 

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. His wife is more or less asking him to allow her to take a lover. You see, this is what comes of not wearing her wedding band to work; she’ll get hit on by creepy rich guys who don’t know she’s taken – by him. 

He remonstrates with her on this very subject and sees her eyes widen as if in disbelief at his words, but he doesn’t back down. He makes it clear to her that he always – _always_ – wears _his_ wedding band to show whomever he’s married, very married. 

Furthermore, ever since he proposed he has been faithful to her. Her eyes narrow and she’s doing a very good impression of someone who doesn’t believe a word he’s just said but is refraining (just) from telling him why. He pushes the thought down that she knows about Bazine, but nevertheless he’s spoken truth. 

By the way, had she anyone in mind she wished to take as a lover? She blushed and stammered no, no-one at all. Now it’s his turn to narrow his eyes and look sceptical. He’s taken her words about _that night_ at face value, but somehow, in his gut, he knows she hadn’t been alone. Someone, some _man_ , had been interested in his wife and had taken her to dinner – he _knows_ this. 

He’d carefully checked her over, her hair, her make-up, her dress, as he’d held her in his arms that night. She didn’t look as though she’d been unbuttoned or made awry by a lover’s hand, she just felt cold and was a little distraught, but he _knows_ she hadn’t dined alone. 

Someone had arranged a limousine to bring her home. He’d asked the concierge covertly that very night and had been told a limousine had pulled up and a uniformed driver had got out and opened the door for her, offering his assistance as she swung her legs out of the car. It was not a rental, the driver wore a smart uniform – he was employed by someone with money. 

He’d gone to her bed that night and if he hadn’t had this situation with Bazine hanging over him he’d have made her his own then. 

He’d gone to her bed the next night too, waiting until she was asleep – he couldn’t bear it if she kicked him out – and held her close to his heart. How good she’d felt under his hands, snuggling in tight as he’d held her. 

His wife snored, softly its true, but his beautiful, vulnerable wife snored. It was precious to him that he had that knowledge of her. 

Other men may see her beauty and lust after her and take her to dinner behind his back and without his permission - which he never would have given - but he had held her in his arms and discovered she snored. That other man didn’t know that about her, didn’t know what it felt like to hold her in his arms whilst she slept content – and that was the way it was going to stay. 

Meanwhile he needed to secure her loyalty to him, so he took her chin in one hand and looped his other arm around her waist and drew her close to his body. There was something he couldn’t tell her, the Lord knew he wanted to, but he couldn’t he confided – not just yet. She had to promise him she’d put the thought of lovers out of her mind. He was hers and she was his – would she promise? 

She looked at him with those wide hazel eyes. Did he mean as her friend, he was her friend and she was his? He kissed her beautiful hair. He couldn’t answer her now, but he would, soon, just have faith in him a little while longer. 

+++++ 

Kylo Ren sat back in his chair perplexed. What he had just seen was not what he was expecting. 

The camera in the conference room showed Solo entering and turning on a single task light, Bazine entering shortly after, launching herself at him. 

Significantly, Solo did not touch her, arms hanging at his side until the angle of her body and the intensity of her embrace threatened to overbalance them, then, and only then, did he touch her – putting hands on her waist to steady them. 

Then she was loosening his tie, pulling him to the table and lying back on it. His hands shot out to brace himself as her legs wrapped around his thighs. 

The tape ran for about twenty five minutes and the woman tried everything she could to try and have sex with him and failed. 

The encounter ended with threats, arguing or reproaches? He was an expert lip reader but the room was so badly lit he couldn’t make out the words, only that the woman was upset and aggressive and the man just stood hunched and (apparently) resentful. 

He switched cameras and saw Rey come back into the entertainment suite looking devastated. Watched her collect her purse and leave with downcast eyes, misery evident in every angle of her body as she shuffled out of the camera’s range. 

Solo came into shot, distraught not to find her at their table and hurrying off – presumably to find her. 

His cell phone rang and he picked up. Snap, buddy, I’ve got a job for you, starting immediately. 

+++++ 

Rey was just as confused as ever after speaking to Ben about their relationship. Well, speaking as much as she was able. If theirs was a proper marriage she could have played the part of the betrayed wife and divulged what she’d seen occur between him and Bazine. But she wasn’t, and as his friend and fake wife she had to respect his boundaries. 

He kept saying they were friends, but seemed to be promising something deeper in the future. She vowed to go see the blonde lawyer in the New Year. 

Meanwhile their extended time alone proved, as she had thought, that they were compatible, able to be content in each other’s company. They talked and took walks together. He cooked, she ate, and they shared chores. For the first time ever she carried a warm glow of contentment within her. 

Of course, this was her life and therefore it couldn’t last. 

He dropped the bombshell as she was about to go to her room, having work the next day. He was so casual and laid back, asking whether she had a dress for New Years Eve. She was glad he’d asked. What did he have planned? 

Had she forgotten? First Order was hosting a New Years Eve party in the entertainment suite. All the satisfaction in his company evaporated in an instant, her feeling of contentment turning to ashes in her mouth. 

Pure rage possessed her. Had he forgotten their conversation of Friday night so soon? Had she not made herself clear? Get this mister, she wouldn’t go. She would not sit there alone and feel so exposed and humiliated. 

He was standing before her reaching for her hands and she was pulling them away, hiding them behind her back. No, she would not listen to him! He wasn’t listening to her, so she would not listen to him. He persisted, trying to cajole her, until there was no bearing it. 

Out it came, the humiliation and bitterness palpable in her voice; that she knew about Bazine. That stopped him in his tracks. 

What about Bazine? 

She knew that he met her at the socials so he could rut with her in empty offices. 

She knew his work colleagues pitied her. They said he belonged to Bazine. 

She knew Bazine was a married woman - married to Poe Dameron – and a slut. 

She never would have married him had she known the truth. 

She was sobbing now. No tears, but dry, heaving sobs, her heart acknowledging the self evident truth – she was not loved, had never been loved, had never known love and would never know it. 

She found herself in her room, curled up on her bed, chest heaving and tight with anguish and filled with a deep, aching loneliness. 

Her door clicked and her mattress shifted as he lay on the bed with her. His arms gathered her up. She fought but he held on tight, making soothing noises until at last she stilled and began crying. He never left her, just holding her with one arm around her and rubbing her back with one large, warm hand. Such an outpouring of grief couldn’t be sustained and at last she quietened, exhausted. 

He left her then, coming back with a warm facecloth and wiped her face carefully, getting her to blow her nose. He then made her take two painkillers with a glass of water. When every drop had been drunk he settled against her pillows and pulled her into his arms, ignoring her protests. 

He ought to have told her, he began, he apologised that he hadn’t. He had his reasons and never intended for her to be hurt. If she believed nothing else, believe that. His lips pressed kisses onto her hair. 

Growing up he had never felt as though his parents belonged to him. They belonged to anyone and anything else, but not to him. He had acted out in his teens and acknowledged that he must have been a nightmare to deal with. Instead of listening, his parents palmed him off to his uncle to sort him out – that hadn’t worked. 

His parents had a friend whose son gravitated toward them, he thought of him as the son his parents ought to have had. Eventually this boy had superseded him in his parents’ affections – he had cultivated them from an early age for reasons he suspected were self-serving. 

This boy, Poe Dameron, learned very quickly he could take cheap shots and deliver put downs to Ben in front of his parents without reproach or penalty. In fact, they often laughed with him – at Ben, their tall, gangly, shy, needy son. 

He’d left home in his late teens vowing never to go back, finding a mentor in James Snoke – the head of First Order. Snoke paid for his education, encouraged and supported him, helping him find his feet and self-confidence. 

His body had developed along with his mind and emotional intelligence, going from tall and lanky to tall and muscular. He found success with the opposite sex and dug deep, but he’d never found any woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with – until her. 

She murmured a protest at this. Her trust in him had weakened significantly. 

He pressed more kisses into her hair – I hear you love. 

Bazine had come to First Order and he had no interest in her whatsoever. She made herself known to him and mentioned she was married to Dameron. Then she’d hit on him and he’d rejected her – avoiding her thereafter. 

Fast forward some months and he was at a benefit sponsored by First Order, his parents were there accompanied, as always, by Dameron. 

He was silent for a while his face pressed into her hair. 

He’d met with his parents at the benefit and, in spite of everything he’d achieved, how he’d matured, Dameron made one of his smart-assed comments to put him in his place – he’d tried to reach out to his mother you see, and his father had snorted with laughter and his mother had smiled. 

He’d gone and found Bazine, had her in a stairwell at the venue up against a wall. It was a hate fuck, the whole thing – brutal, and she had loved it. 

He’d done it so the next time he met Dameron, no matter how in control he felt because of manipulating his parents against him, he would always have that to draw on – he’d had his wife practically under his nose and she had found him to be the better man. 

He gave a kind of groan and turned into her, pulling her closer. 

The joke was on him, however. What confidences Dameron had shared with Bazine he didn’t know, but she knew – in spite of everything – he still craved his parents approval and love. She’d come to him wanting more of the same treatment and he’d refused. 

Then she’d sprung the trap, if he didn’t take her as his lover she would go to his mother and confess the whole thing. 

The threat was valid, he knew Dameron was more a son to his parents than he was and for sure, from that day on he would be dead to them with no chance of reconciliation. 

He’d had sex with her one more time and the sense of disgust with himself, the self loathing, had rendered him physically unable to get an erection every time she’d hit on him since. This had not gone down well. 

Meanwhile, he had met her, his Rey, and had loved her spirit, admired her beauty, had felt connected with her in a way he’d never felt previously. Had he had time, he would have dated her, wooed her, won her, but time was against him. 

Bazine had been sent to the London office to investigate financial irregularities and though it was reckoned she’d be there a while, he needed to move quickly and had made his proposal to her. 

The plan was that Bazine would back off once he was unavailable and he had every intention of making their marriage real, the terms of the pre-nup were all angled toward the longevity of their union, but she wouldn’t back off. Now, if she couldn’t have him, she’d settle for destroying him. 

She wants to believe him, really she does, but Ben she’s risking her heart here. 

If she re-reads the pre-nup, she can leave the marriage anytime she wants and be materially provided for. He’d had it heavily slanted to provide generously for children, hoping she’d think of the two of them producing a family together - everything in it reflecting how he felt about her, the need to protect her, provide for her and keep her for himself. 

She recalled how her lawyer had made a key point of that clause and her feelings about it, how every provision in it was generous and there for her well-being. 

Then why does he meet Bazine privately at the socials? 

To placate her, she threatens to come tell her about what they’d done in front of everyone – make a scene. She’s angry enough and desperate enough to do just that. 

And he hadn’t confided her because...? 

”I was ashamed”, spoken very quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, caution with this paragraph. It may be triggering to readers who had less than ideal relationships with parent/parents.

It’s all too much and she fell asleep with Ben’s arms around her, waking to him gently rubbing one of her arms and calling her from sleep – it’s time to get ready for work. 

She showered first, aware of his eyes constantly on her as she moved around her room gathering lingerie – they have both slept in their clothes and she, at least, feels all wrong for having done so. After showering and washing her hair, she returned to her room dressed in bra and panties; turning in her doorway to call out that the bathroom was free. 

Entering her room, she found Ben was still there. 

He peeled himself off her bed and stood in front of her, head bowed – a penitent. 

”Sweetheart, are we good?” 

”Ben, it’s all too much,” she replied tiredly. “Can we leave it for now? I need to go to work and to do my job and take time out.” 

He nodded and bent down to kiss her. 

Impulsively, she reached out a hand to cup his cheek as he leant in to place a soft kiss on hers. This simple gesture seems to mean a lot to him and he wound his arms around her and gave her a convulsive hug before leaving her. 

Dressed, and with her hair up in a bun, she headed for the kitchen to make coffee and tea. 

Although, as usual for work, she had taken off her engagement ring and put it back in its box, hidden under her lingerie, she had left her wedding band on. She needs to send a message and this is the simplest way – she’s tired of words. 

Ben came out of his bedroom dressed except for tie and jacket, which he draped over their dining table. He noticed her wedding band and his face lightened. 

He pulled her against him, with a hand placed against her lower back, and placed a kiss in her hair, moving seamlessly toward the stove and asking what she wanted for breakfast. They’ve eaten lots over the holiday, so she asked for cereal and toast. 

”Would you like a ride into work?” he asked, as they shrugged themselves into their coats? 

She beamed at him, “If you’ve time, that would be wonderful.” 

She reached up and straightened his tie, adjusting the collar of his coat. He leant in, eyes closed, honestly, he could be so beguiling, so adorable. She stroked his cheek gently, “Come on, handsome,” she teased. 

The city had lost its bustle. There were only two days before the weekend and it seemed people have extended their holiday, as they travel practically traffic free through the streets. He dropped her off and they exchange a peck on the lips. She watched him drive away and entered the clinic. 

Work is good. They are not busy and it’s a short day, they close at 1pm, but it gives her time to think. 

Ben has kept secrets from her it’s true, but she can see why. Had she heard about the relationship between him and Bazine, although she’d have been sympathetic and offered a listening ear, she never would have married him – would she? 

Then again, he’d made financial provision for her – she is to be materially provided for in every eventuality, so he hasn’t been completely irresponsible. Her heart may emerge battered and bruised, but then again, that’s her life. 

No, he’d kept secrets from her but he hadn’t lied. 

The situation with his parents is truly astonishing to her. She had always assumed that if you had parents who stayed, it was a given they loved you. Shocking to hear he’d been as neglected as she had been with regard to parental love – although cushioned by wealth. And to reach out to them and be rebuffed by a cuckoo in the nest, to see them gone along with it! How hurtful that must have been. 

Just how much had Dameron told Bazine about Ben’s relationships with his parents, she wondered? Had he crowed over his success in pushing Ben out – big, awkward, needy Ben? She found her fingers had curled into claws and straightened them. Take deep breaths, Rey, and hope you never meet him. 

Rey parted from her colleagues on the clinic’s steps, wishing them a cheery goodbye before turning away to walk to the subway station. As she walked, she noticed a black limousine parked up ahead of her. 

As she approached, the front passenger door opened and a large man, a bodyguard type, got out and opened one of the rear doors. 

She saw a diminutive woman dressed in white get out too, and as she drew level heard her name called. 

The woman was advancing toward her, holding out her hand, “Rey, Rey Solo?” 

It seemed strange being so addressed, but she is indeed Rey Solo so she answered with a simple yes. 

“I’m Leia Organa, Ben’s mother, how nice to meet you.” 

Rey automatically took the hand proffered and looked into the woman’s face – her eyes were Ben’s eyes. She said so and blushed at her own gaucheness. 

“I beg pardon,” she stammered, “it’s just that... they are.” 

Leia was smiling at her. “Could I offer you a lift Rey? I’d like to talk to you.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

The bodyguard, she’s sure that’s what he is, opened the door nearest the sidewalk and she got in. Leia entered from the other side and the bodyguard closed her door and got in the front passenger seat. 

“Just drive, please”, said Leia, and a partition between the front and back seats slid into place. 

Rey’s brain started to work – “How did you know where to find me?” 

“I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I have contacts that were able to tell me where you worked. I didn’t feel I could turn up at your apartment, not with how things are with Ben.” 

“ **Not** Ben’s fault” – Rey immediately defended him. 

Leia looked as though she was about to speak, but paused and nodded instead. 

Looking briefly out of the limo’s window at the passing city she turned back to Rey. 

“Mistakes were made.” 

“Whatever that means”, murmured Rey, readying herself to defend Ben if need be. 

“Anyway, Leia sighed, I have a daughter-in-law I’d like to get to know. Were you just at work, dear?” 

Rey laughed. “I’ve a feeling you know the answer to that already.” 

Leia smiled right back at her, “I suppose I do.” 

“Do you enjoy your work?” 

“Yes, very much so.” 

“Is that how you met Ben? And, no, I don’t know the answer to that question already.” 

“No, we met at a restaurant he frequently dined at. I was the waitress”, she cast a droll look at Leia. 

“But you were putting yourself through college, no?” 

“Yes, I was.” 

They were both silent, Rey looking out the car window trying to work out where in the city they were heading - trying to fight feeling awkward around Ben’s mother. 

Leia spoke again, “Mistakes were made on both sides with Ben.” 

Rey was not allowing that. 

“If you’re saying Ben made mistakes, I don’t accept that. You were the mother and he was the child, he deserved to be heard – and mothered.” She put emphasis on _mothered_. 

Leia looked at her sharply, went to speak and thought better of it. 

“I had hoped we could be friends”, she murmured finally. 

“Nothing standing in the way of that, Ben already tried reaching out to you and was rebuffed – except your desire to be truly reconciled.” 

Again she received a piercing look, and then Leia turned and looked out of the car window. 

Rey took this as dismissal and turned her attention once more to trying to gauge where in the city they were. She saw indications that they were close to her neighbourhood and turned to Leia – who was still looking out the window. 

“Look, I don’t want to inconvenience you, so if you drop me here, I can make my way home.” 

“No, dear, you’re not inconveniencing me at all, and my driver will drop you at your apartment building.” 

Rey looked at her, noticing how tired and defeated she looked. 

She offered an olive branch. 

“You know, you’re welcome anytime to pop by for coffee or a drink. Start small and build large maybe is the way to go.” 

“Ben ...” began Leia. 

Rey was not allowing the blame to be put on Ben. 

“Ben will be fine,” interrupted Rey, “as long as you come alone and we don’t try to fix everything at once.” 

Leia bit her lip and nodded. 

Rey drew out her phone. 

“Give me your number and I’ll send you a text”, she offered. 

Leia pulled out her phone and reeled off her number. 

“There,” said Rey, “you can either delete me or save me, it’s up to you.” 

“Thank you, dear. My son is fortunate in his wife.” 

“As am I in him”, replied Rey. 

They pulled up in front of Rey’s building. 

“It’s an open invitation,” Rey said. “All I ask is that you don’t bring Dameron. I will not have Ben disrespected in our home.” 

Leia’s eyes widened an unreadable expression on her face. 

Rey smiled at her. 

Leia blinked, and then reached out to hug her goodbye. 

“I’ll be in touch”, she promised. 

“We’ll be glad to hear from you”, replied Rey, hugging her back. 

She exited the car; the bodyguard having opened the door was waiting patiently. 

“Rey, Leia was leaning across the passenger seat, looking up at her, “I meant what I said, my son is fortunate to have you.” 

Rey smiled, not willing to say more and stepped back. The bodyguard closed the door and got in himself. She stood, watching the limo drive away until it was out of sight. Sighing, she turned and entered her building. 

+++ 

Well, that was a revelation; it seemed her son had met his match in more ways than one! The girl’s soft and fluffy look was deceptive – she had a spine of steel. True, she had not quite liked some of the things said, the girl was partisan, unrepentantly so, but she would think it over – all of it. 

She recalled the incident with Ben and Poe at the fund-raiser. 

Although at the time she had smiled at Poe’s quick wit, she hadn’t felt comfortable with Poe’s jibe against Ben and had seen pain and then burning anger in her son’s eyes. 

Clearly, she ought to have done something about it as Ben considered it significant enough to confide the incident to his young wife. 

‘I won’t have Ben disrespected in our home’. What had Ben confided to her to provoke such a strong response? Whatever it was, it was obviously best to keep Ben and Poe apart. 

She sighed; Ben had always been needy and resentful over Poe. 

The car drew up at her office and she rode the elevator to her office suite – Poe was waiting for her. 

She’d gone to find Rey on impulse and broken with her carefully plotted timetable taking an unscheduled three quarters of an hour out of her day. Poe was hovering, clearly interested to know where she’d been. 

She suddenly thought he may not be pleased she’d taken time out to meet with her daughter-in-law. Where had that thought come from? Poe was pressing to know where she’d been, but she returned evasive answers. 

For the first time she resented his intrusiveness into her private life and, aware of a hard look in his eyes which his customary urbanity could not conceal, realised he was resentful of her keeping her whereabouts from him. 

There was something possessive in his neediness to know her every move she didn’t quite like. It made her uncomfortable to realise he was jealous of whoever she’d given her time to. Nevertheless, she moved the subject on. He looked as though he would argue, then gave one of his charming smiles and let the matter drop. 

When he left her office she called her bodyguard, Chewie, and impressed upon him to be discreet about her whereabouts that afternoon. He promised to brief her chauffeur. 

She thanked him and hung up, for the first time giving a momentary thought to Ben’s accusations regarding Poe, then she dismissed them, massaging her temples, really, she didn’t need this.


	8. Chapter 8

Ben arrived home about 5pm, shuffling through the door and casting shy glances at her as he hung his coat and took off his shoes – as though not sure of his welcome. 

She crossed over to him and reached up to kiss his cheek. He leaned into her, blushing slightly. 

They got on with the business of supper and exchanging general chit-chat. 

She didn’t mention the meeting with Leia, being sure her invitation would never be taken up. She had been too blunt - rude even - too loyal to Ben. To mention it to him and then have him be disappointed would be to inflict another wound which would not heal. 

While they were cleaning dishes, he drying, she brought up the subject of New Years Eve. 

He was hesitant, casting quick glances at her and then looking at the dish in his hands. 

They didn’t have to be there for the whole thing, he explained, only about two hours in fact – 8pm to 10pm. 

Snoke, the owner of First Order and his mentor, always came to the New Year’s bash. He liked to speak to all his senior management individually and then address the troops, encouraging their endeavours for the New Year. 

Senior management usually left shortly after – junior management and general staff could get a little wild – it was best not to see subordinates get drunk and be a little mouthy. 

She laughed, but then lowered her eyes, not wanting to be first to address the matter of the elephant in the room. 

He cleared his throat. Bazine was the exception. She always accompanied her husband to his mother’s party – with Snoke’s permission. 

Now his eyes were lowered – the dish he was drying being turned again and again in his hands. 

She took dish and cloth from him, laying them on the counter, putting her arms around his waist. 

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him, his face buried in her hair, so sorry, Rey, so very, very sorry. 

He wept. 

Shhh, she held him close, murmuring words of comfort, undoubtedly he needs her, and she’s never been needed before. 

The evening passed quickly. 

She had another half day of work before the weekend, so wished him goodnight. 

He wanted to say something, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. 

He wanted to sleep with her – that night and all the nights. 

Was there a way to be delicate about this? 

There really wasn’t. 

She took a deep breath. 

She didn’t wish to be crude, but he’d had sex with a married woman who, presumably, was also having sex with her husband and who knew how many others. 

She hesitated to bad mouth another female, BUT, goodness knows what diseases that woman was carrying! 

He blushed, two spots high on his cheekbones. She was sure if she brushed back his hair those ears of his would be bright red. 

She misunderstood. He meant _sleep_ sleep with her, but as for sex, yes, he’d like to have that with her too. 

His blush deepened. While he hadn’t used a condom the first time with Bazine, he had the second time and had subsequently got tested. He was clean and had had sex with no other since. 

His shame and discomfort were palpable. 

Once more she reached out and held him by his waist. 

It flitted through her mind; did other wives have these sorts of excruciating conversations with their husbands? Possibly, she was sure there were other versions of Bazine out there. 

His arms had enfolded her once more and she acknowledged to herself, she loved being held by him whether in or out of bed. 

Is it a good idea to sleep together, she asked? 

They were married, true, but it betokened an intimacy they didn’t have. With regard to having sex, well, she hadn’t, not ever. 

He was kissing her then, and she responded. What _was_ she thinking? 

He lifted his head, her chin cupped in one large hand so he could look deeply into her eyes. 

How was this possible? 

She answered, a little sharply, not every woman was a Bazine! 

No, no, he didn’t mean to imply anything other than that she was beautiful and desirable. _He’d_ wanted her almost from their first meeting. 

She had pulled away from him, looking into his face once more. 

If they drew close, if they fell in love (her voice faltered a little here), wouldn’t she become a vulnerability for Bazine to exploit? Let her be plain, if she gave herself to him and he cheated, with Bazine, with anyone, to save face, she would pack up, bag and baggage, and he’d never see her again except in court. 

Rey, he wasn’t promiscuous. He’d played the field in his early twenties, but a lot of men could say the same. 

Bazine was an aberration, he realised he had to let go of resentment, accept that Poe was the son his parents wanted. 

Yes, it gave him pain to say that, but what he could have with her promised something so much better – a loyal wife, someone who had his back, and maybe, if she was agreeable, a family of his own. 

She strengthened him rather than weakened him, he had come to realise that. 

It was tempting, she thought, but no, she couldn’t open up her heart to that extent. 

Her heart had taken more than its fair share of knocks, mostly stemming from her being abandoned and the subsequent years of mistreatment. She couldn’t be cavalier and risk exposing it deliberately to heartache. 

He saw her answer in her eyes and nodded, kissing her chastely and parting from her to his own room. 

She woke in the night feeling too warm. 

He was wrapped around her. 

+++ 

She was wearing Chanel - a gift from Ben. 

He’d taken her shopping and bought it. She had no idea how much it had cost him, there was no price on the garment. If you had to ask you couldn’t afford to buy! 

It was a white sheath dress with gold thread embroidery. It clung to her and, if she’d been anything but slim of hip and small of bust and waist, she could not have carried it off, as it was, she looked magnificent – a goddess he told her. 

Her hair was down, in loose, soft waves. Her eyes made up to look smoky and seductive. Her lips she had left untouched, her own natural pretty pink. 

Ben wore a Dior Homme lounge suit with white silk shirt and black silk tie. 

They both looked pretty good she thought. 

They would leave after Snoke’s address to the troops, so Ben drove them there. 

With Ben by her side, moving around the room, she found his co-workers more receptive to her, offering (very) belated congratulations on her marriage and engaging in small talk – admiring her dress, commenting on how well they’d noticed she danced. 

It occurred to her that perhaps she had been avoided when alone because it was thought Ben wouldn’t like anyone to approach her without him being there? If there was an interdict, only Matt had chosen to ignore it - strange. 

They both stuck to drinking water, they had a bottle of champagne chilling at home. 

At last the summons came, delivered by the tallest woman Rey had ever met. She was dressed head to toe Atelier Versace, a silvery off the shoulder gown split on one side to her upper thigh. 

Gwen Phasma, James Snoke’s PA and confidante. 

She uttered a terse ‘you’re wanted’ to Ben, who was preparing to follow her, and then ‘and your wife, Solo’. 

Ben showed his confusion momentarily, and then took Rey’s hand as they followed the tall blonde through the assembled guests – who parted before her, eyes cast down. 

+++ 

Red and black dominated the office where James Snoke was ensconced. 

The man himself was dressed in a tuxedo and was seated – he did not rise to greet them. 

As they approached, Rey took in his pale blonde hair, sparse on top, and a face badly scarred with acne. 

Piercing blue eyes took in every detail of Rey as they approached him and Rey quelled an instinct to curtsy as they stopped short of it, Ben still holding her hand. 

The interview was short and, Rey thought, quite bizarre. 

Ben’s work performance was praised, new goals set for him, but the main object of interest seemed to be her, the blue eyes constantly flicking over her, appraising, testing. There was nothing lascivious in the looks; their purpose seemed to be the probing of her character, not drinking in her physical charms. 

It ended as bizarrely. 

Ben let go of her and walked forward to kiss Snoke’s hand. 

As he did so, Snoke’s other hand was placed briefly on his head and something which might have been ‘my son’ was murmured. 

Phasma walked before them, opening the door and following them out. 

+++ 

The room was silent after they’d left, Snoke deep in thought. 

Then he spoke, “A pretty little pigeon, Ren, with a spine of steel, I make no doubt.” 

Kylo Ren came out from behind a screen where he’d been sitting, concealed. He came and stood before Snoke, head slightly bowed in deference. 

Snoke remained deep in thought, finally he spoke. “Spend whatever you need. Who will you use?” 

“Snap’s team ... maybe DJ.” 

Snoke snorted. 

“Tell him, if he even thinks of a double cross, I will find him and he will beg for death before I’m done.” 

Ren nodded. 

A sly look was given him. “You realise she’s off limits, Ren?” 

The tall man shifted uncomfortably. “Sir?” 

“Your father and I go back a long way, Ren, if you’ve forgot. I know you as well as he does – maybe better as I don’t have a father’s sentimentality to cover over your sins.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You may go.” 

“Sir.” 

The tall man bowed his head and headed for the door, as he grasped the door handle Snoke spoke again. 

“Ren.” 

He turned. 

“Sir?” 

Snoke’s voice was low, vibrating with malice. 

“Give me everything - every detail, no matter how insignificant or sordid. There are no threats to the boy’s happiness to be left standing – or to his wife’s.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Kylo Ren left the room and tugged on his shirt collar, which suddenly felt tight. 

+++ 

It was approaching 10pm when Snoke entered the entertainment suite and addressed the assembled company. 

At the end of it, the band readying to play, he turned to Mrs. Rey Solo and asked for the privilege of the first dance, which was granted. 

He led her onto the dance floor and the band began to play ‘The Way You Look Tonight’. 

James Snoke and Rey Solo made an elegant couple as they waltzed and conversed in low voices. 

At the end of the dance, Snoke bowed over her hand and kissed it, still standing on the dance floor in full view of all. 

Rey Solo, in return, stood on tiptoe and kissed one of his pitted inflamed cheeks, a cool hand clasped against the other. 

James Snoke bowed over her hand again and returned her to her husband. 

He turned, entourage gathered around him, and left the suite. 

+++ 

It started small... 

...in a town called Jakku, two states over. A junker called Unkar Plutt was found crushed underneath one of his misbegotten vehicles. 

The coroner ruled death by misadventure – apparently, he’d been working under the vehicle using blocks for support rather than a jack. He was a large man and must have somehow brought the whole shebang down on top of him. It was reckoned he took 2-3 hours to die. 

Unkar Plutt had once fostered children. That came to an end when a girl in his charge collapsed whilst in school and was found to be dangerously malnourished, her body also showing signs of physical abuse. 

All in all, good riddance to bad rubbish, the townsfolk said. 

+++ 

In the same town lived a kind-hearted elderly woman named Maz Kanata. She had had a run of bad luck and had spiralling medical bills to pay. She survived on welfare and a regular monthly payment from a girl she once fostered. She was facing eviction and a life lived on the streets and was in despair. 

Then the apartment block she lived in was bought out and the new landlord waived her rent arrears. No-one, he told her, should have to pay rent to live in such a shit-hole. However, the bones of the building were good and a programme of renovation begun. 

She was offered, and accepted, the post of caretaker. Free accommodation was part of the package and medical and dental cover. 

The threatening letters regarding her unpaid bills ceased. 

It took her a while to realise this, given the recent major changes in her life. When she eventually made inquiry, she was told her outstanding bills had been settled by an anonymous benefactor. She had purposely not told her former foster daughter of her circumstances, but, somehow, Rey Solo must have found out and paid them. 

She respected Rey’s privacy, but every day gave thanks for the kindness of the girl who had come to her in such an emaciated state from the cruel hands of Unkar Plutt. 

+++ 

The next step involved a blonde haired lawyer working for First Order. 

He came in one morning to find the floor where he worked empty of his colleagues. As he approached his work station, wondering about this, he noticed a box on his desk. 

Drawing closer, he saw a series of photographs were spread out neatly on the work surface. 

His face drained of colour when he saw the subject. 

A typed sheet of paper was also lying with the photographs. He picked it up. 

It was the transcript of a conversation: A woman was asking her lover to either set up compromising pictures of Rey Solo, hinting she was having an affair with him, or flat out seduce the girl, after all he had an in – as they had plotted, he was her preferred dance partner at work socials. His hands started shaking uncontrollably and his vision blurred. He managed to read the postscript after a struggle. 

His personal effects were in the box and an envelope containing his severance. He had 24 hours to get out of town. If he stayed, he would be shown no mercy. 

He sat down heavily on his office chair trying to get his breathing under control. When he finally got his shaking limbs to obey him, he complied. The postscript had been signed off by James Snoke. 

+++ 

The next event was preceded by a telephone call by Kylo Ren to his father. 

An operator answered and asked for his code name. 

As always, he winced as he said it: ‘Heartbreaker’. It was his dad’s idea of a joke. 

The operator’s voice came down the line: He was connected to The Director and the line was secure. 

He then had to endure 10+ minutes of criticism about his lifestyle choices and interrogation as to why he hadn’t called his mother recently? Finally, his father paused for breath and Ren was able to say he was calling in for a favour. 

There were another 10 minutes given over to reproach and complaint before his father stopped mid sentence and asked ‘Is this for Jimmy?’ assured that it was, he carefully listened to his son’s request. 

Before he hung up, his dad told him to tell that ugly bastard he still owed him $50 and to call his mother. Then he hung up. 

Needless, to say, Ren had no intention of passing on that particular message, he called his mom. 

+++ 

It snowballed... 

It may have been coincidence, but following Ren’s phone call, the editor of a well-respected broadsheet received an anonymous tipoff of such probity he assigned two of his best investigative reporters to the case. 

Their work resulted in the arrest of one Poe Dameron, charged with embezzlement and misuse of public funds. 

Ben’s parents, completely under the spell of Dameron, had entrusted him with all their affairs, and he had made free use of opportunities presented by Leia being in public office to feather his nest. Assets belonging to them had also been compromised. 

The only assets untouched were those of the Skywalker legacy. These had been settled on Ben by his grandparents and he had taken charge of them as soon as he was of age and ring fenced them. 

+++ 

Upon learning of her husband’s arrest and charges pending, Bazine Netal began divorce proceedings, fully intending to take charge of Poe’s assets in settlement. 

Poe’s lawyer received a package from an anonymous well-wisher containing photos of an explicit nature - Bazine with her lover, a blonde haired man. Poe’s lawyer counter-sued. 

James Snoke, hearing of such depravity among his staff, and careful of his company’s reputation, dispensed with her services. 

This proved problematic for her. Any company with prestige took the view if James Snoke wouldn’t employ her, neither would they. She disappeared into obscurity. 

+++ 

The reporters were on a roll. 

Their next bombshell resulted in a raid on the home and various premises held by the Organa-Solo’s by the IRS. There was undeclared income, apparently, on which tax ought to have been levied, going back some years. Computers and files were removed – reparations would certainly have to be made. The source of the undeclared earnings was also proving of interest to the IRS and other government agencies. When that story broke it was huge. 

Leia stepped down immediately. At best the Organa-Solo’s were negligent, at worse complicit in Dameron’s dodgy dealings. The tabloids made much of the fact that they had, to all intents and purposes, rejected their own son in favour of Dameron. The coverage was humiliating. 

Her replacement had the discreet financial backing of James Snoke. 

+++ 

James Snoke was reckoned to have a heart of granite. That wasn’t strictly true. 

He would lay down his life for the father of the man known as Kylo Ren, for instance. They’d become true brothers during their service in the Marine Corps, a bond forged in combat and refined in numerous missions and sorties where one had held the other’s life in his hands and had proven true. 

Snoke, being an orphan, had joined the Corps as his way out of poverty. 

Kylo Ren, his true brother’s son, had worked in covert operations and had had his cover blown – his true brother had asked for his assistance in placing his son in safekeeping until a mopping up operation was completed. He had not had to ask twice. 

Ben Solo he regarded as his son – not the son of his body, this was true, but as the son of his heart. 

Ben’s marriage had been sudden and unexpected, and had obviously caught his attention. It struck him as strange that a formal introduction of the bride had not been made, rather Ben was keeping her to himself, but he held his peace. It was enough that his foster son seemed truly happy, where before he’d seemed burdened by something. He gave orders to management that Rey Solo was to be treated with the uttermost respect, and then settled down like a cat at a mouse hole awaiting events. 

When Ren came to him with what scant information he had; he had known a moment of blind fury – had Bazine been before him, he surely would have struck her down. 

He resolved to meet Rey Solo in person at the New Years Eve party and had recognised her heart and spirit immediately, echoes of it still remained in him. 

Subsequently, he approved unlimited funding to investigate, although a little hurt that his foster son had not come to him with his troubles, but was satisfied Ren would get to the heart of the matter. 

He had noticed a slight change of demeanour in Ren whenever Rey’s name was mentioned and warned him off. As the son of his true brother he would look the other way of anything Ren did, but not where it concerned the happiness of the son of his heart. 

Ren, knowing what sort of men Snoke and his father were, heeded the warning and settled for more accessible prey. To fuck with Snoke would be to invite the Apocalypse. 

+++ 

At the end of it all, Snoke was well satisfied, his duty done, his mission completed. 

He had taken revenge, administered justice, aided the weak and helpless, gained a political ally who was beholden to him and acquired a daughter. He could not resist, his bellow was heard in the adjoining office, ex Marine Captain Gwen Phasma’s lips curled in a snarl. She answered him – “Oorah!”


	9. Chapter 9

They were heading for home. 

He’d taken off his jacket, which was draped carefully over her knees, and had rolled back his shirt sleeves. His tie was stuffed in the pocket of his jacket and the top button of his shirt undone. 

Looking at him like this, she wondered again at his boyish look when he was relaxed and off duty – and the effect that it had on her; the surge of emotion which bid her take him in her arms and kiss him senseless. How would he react to such treatment, she wondered? 

Not for the first time, she wished she had sexual experience to bring to the relationship, but she’d always played safe, not wanting to be used. 

Rose had had failed love affairs, but seemed to bounce back from them after trash talking the jerk who’d dumped or cheated on her, and eating copious amounts of ice cream, and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and shedding copious amounts of tears. 

She wished she possessed that sort of resilience. 

He was parking now, helping her from the car, holding her hand as she trailed after him to the elevator. The concierge called out ‘goodnight’ as they crossed the foyer of their building, they called ‘goodnight’ back, adding ‘and a happy new year’. 

They stood side by side in the elevator, each lost to their thoughts. He tugged at her hand and she followed him to their apartment door. 

Letting go her hand, he headed straight for the kitchen and she placed his jacket on their dining table, shrugging off her soft-white cashmere coat – another gift from Ben, and laid that across the table too. 

Music started playing, relayed softly throughout the living quarters. 

She headed for the kitchen and he’d set out two champagne coupes on the island and was wrestling with the champagne bottle – vintage Veuve Cliquot. 

She laughed. 

Hold the cork and turn the bottle, she instructed. 

He shot her a look but complied and the cork released with a pop. 

He stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed again, coming to stand beside him as he poured. 

He handed her a glass and picked up his own. 

“Here’s to you, sweetheart.” 

She tipped her glass against his. 

“Here’s to us, Ben.” 

A tremor passed over his features, but he merely repeated, parrot fashion, ‘to us’. 

The song changed and they absentmindedly listened to the lyrics as they sipped their wine. 

The woman sang on, slow and wistful, and they became aware of the appropriateness of the lyrics as she sang. 

After a beat, Ben began to sing along, his voice low and deep, accompanying the singer but adjusting the sentiment to fit: 

_I would be lucky to find me a woman_

_Who could love me the way that I am_

_With all my troubling ways_

He would have sung on, but Rey put a slim finger against his lips. 

Her voice sounded husky. 

“I know of such a woman.” 

Again, that tremor crossed his face. 

He put down his wine glass and took hers from her, setting them down carefully. 

He was standing sideways on, and as he looked at her he cleared his throat nervously. 

“This woman,” he began, “would she want all of me?” 

Rey regarded him for a brief moment. 

“I think so,” she replied, “if you wanted all of her.” 

He faced her then and opened his arms, she walked into them. 

A vague thought flitted through her mind that she just had to submit to him and he’d take care of business, because she had never been kissed before, and never dreamed it could be like this. 

His head was bent toward her and angled. His tongue pushing her lips open and it was the most natural thing to part her teeth allowing his tongue admittance into her mouth. 

He eventually disengaged and raised his head, his voice shaky as he spoke. 

“Woman, I want to get you out of that dress and into bed.” 

She pushed against him and he released her immediately. 

Moving away from him, she turned her back, inviting him to unzip her. 

He moved toward her, fingers fumbling on the tiny latch – finally pulling it down to her hip. 

She stepped away from him again, about two feet distant, pulling each shoulder strap to the side and then shimmying a little. The silk lining slid smoothly down her body, the dress pooling at her feet. 

She stepped out of it and moved backwards, showing off her matching white lace lingerie with gold coloured leather court shoes on her feet. The shoes had four inch heels and showed off to best advantage her long, shapely legs. 

Another tremor crossed his face. This one she knew – lust, and he was advancing rapidly, kicking the dress to one side. 

Before she could protest at such rough treatment of it, his mouth was on hers, and her bra was being unhooked and pulled off of her. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around her, her soft breasts pressing against the solid mass of his chest. 

She put her hands in his hair, both for balance and because of the corresponding lust awoken in her at the evidence of his passion and want. She suddenly wanted to tug and bite and scratch, pulling her head back to release herself from his kiss, she fisted his hair and leaned in and nipped at his full bottom lip. 

He gasped and was tipping her head back, looking into her eyes. What he saw satisfied him that the die had indeed been cast. Tonight they would be one and cross the Rubicon together. 

She was lifted up in an instant, being carried as a bride should be toward her room. 

She languidly toed off her shoes as he walked, feeling serene and relaxed, trusting he would take care of her through what was to come. 

Her door was kicked closed behind him and he set her down beside her bed, turning on her bedside lamp. 

He then pushed against her so that the back of her calves touched the mattress. She gave a little squawk, fearing she’d fall, but his arms caged loosely around her. 

“Undress me, lady”, his voice was deep and hoarse, sending a shockwave through her which she knew to be desire. 

She placed her hands flat on his chest and looked into his face, which wore a very disturbing expression. 

She licked her lips and this must send a message to an aroused man she was yet to interpret, because undressing him was forgotten and she was being soundly kissed again, and this time he was nipping at her lips and palming her breasts. 

His arousal was very evident now, but something wanton and needy had been awoken in her and she didn’t pull away from his kisses and hard length, rather she pressed her belly firmly against him hearing him growl. 

Her hands were moving over his shirt, finding by feel and memory the location of the tiny buttons, beginning to undo them all fingers and thumbs. 

He stood back, not breaking eye contact and got enough buttons undone to shuck the shirt off, revealing that glorious, muscular body of his, a golden glow cast over him by the bedside lamp, flattering its contours. 

He walked to her chair and sat down, untying his laces and kicking off his shoes, peeling off his socks. 

He then stood, and slowly and deliberately began to unfasten his belt, pulling it with calculated precision from the loops of his pants and slowly winding it around his hand, his erection very evident, straining against his thin dress pants. 

Mmm, she thought, two can tease. 

She raised a thumb to her mouth, gently holding it between her teeth, lips closed around it. 

She then placed the pointer finger of her other hand just under the elastic of her panties and moved it languidly to and fro horizontally. 

He cast his belt to the floor at once and was divesting himself of pants and underwear. 

She slipped her panties off, kicking them away. 

Sooo, he always said he loved her legs and ass. Well, was he in for a treat! 

She turned away from him, rising on tiptoes, giving him an excellent view of the goods, complete with dimples of Venus, turning her upper body to look over her shoulder at him, thumb once more placed provocatively in her mouth. 

With what passed over his face, the expression in his eyes, she knew a moment of panic, but it was too late, he’d reached her and his lips were once more fastened on hers. 

He raised his head, eyes burning with want. 

“Do you tease, wife?” he growled. 

“It’s a dangerous game you play. You don’t know it yet, but you will.” 

He lowered his head once more, tongue insistent against her, arms wrapped tightly around her. 

Once again her hands were in his hair, gripping so as not to overbalance, of their own accord her legs were lifting and wrapping themselves around his waist – something long and solid between them. 

She reached down and adjusted its position, wriggling a little against it, not knowing what the effect would be on him, to better situate it. 

He gave a strangled gasp and pulled his head back. 

“Why you little minx! You like playing with fire, sweetheart? Then you shall have it.” 

His words sounded threatening, but her body was placed softly on her bed, the covers thrown back so she lay on her sheet. 

He followed her on to the bed, kneeling before her, his lips swollen and red. 

He parted her legs, lowering his head and putting his lips and tongue to her pussy. She jolted and writhed at the sensation, but he held her firmly. 

She looked down at him, his eyes were raised to hers, gauging her state of arousal. 

She sank back on her pillows, moaning as the sensations he was eliciting grew in intensity, wanting to writhe, but held firmly in place, only her upper body able to move and arch. 

She thought that without penetration, this was the pinnacle of what he could achieve, but then he inserted one of his fingers, releasing her to arch and writhe as she would. 

Her hands fisted her hair and she began to beg. 

“Ben... please, please, Ben.” 

Begging for she knew not what, but _more_ than this, as pleasurable as it was, not understanding the dichotomy between the pleasure he was giving her and a corresponding feeling of emptiness. 

He inserted a second finger and she began to _moan_ and writhe and beg. 

Then it hit her, a sensation so intense she clenched around his fingers, bucking against his hand. 

She lay there supine, panting. 

He removed his fingers and was lying beside her in an instant, holding her against him, cupping one of her breasts and promising he’d take care of her continuing neediness for _more_. 

Then he was parting her legs and settling between them on his knees, moving forward, lowering himself on her, now parting her folds with the fingers of one hand and pressing the head of his length against her. 

She gasped and bucked as he entered her. 

He uttered low words of assurance, asking her to put her legs around his waist once more. 

He was able to enter her more easily then, caging her in his arms and beginning to thrust. This, then, was what had been missing in his pleasuring of her, this fullness. 

There was initial discomfort as he carefully pressed into her, Ben was well endowed, a pinch or two, then they were fully joined. He paused, adjusting his hips against her and the position of his arms, placing a hand under her neck. 

He started to move again, establishing a rhythm; a ripple ran through her and began to build. Her breaths became quick and shallow a whimper on the inhale, she could hear a slight rasp to his breath. 

It added to the erotic charge she felt, knowing herself to be sequestered under him, powerless but also powerful. 

The angles of his face were softened as he moved above her, his eyes unfocused, meeting hers, as he obeyed the imperative to thrust rhythmically against her, increasing speed as shared ecstasy flooded them, her bed protesting softly under them. 

I did this, she thought, I brought him to this. 

With that thought she came, clenching around him. 

He cried out, thrusting a few times more and then followed her over the edge. 

“Love, love”, he was calling out, thrusting spasmodically into her, chasing the sensations her fluttering and clenching wrought in him. 

At last he was still and would have parted from her, but she bid him stay by clenching around him and keeping her legs gripped tight. 

He lowered himself once more and sought her lips, putting a hand to her breast. 

She couldn’t keep him inside her indefinitely, though she wanted to be connected to him in this way forever. 

He softened and she heard the soft thud of his spent penis hit her sheet and mattress. 

Reluctantly, she removed her legs from around him, following him up as he knelt before her, winding her arms around his neck and drawing him into a kiss. 

She had to let him go, he needed the bathroom. 

She followed him out of the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. 

Then Ben was there, moving his lips against her neck, moving his hands over her hips and stomach and breasts. She arched back into him again. 

“Go back to bed, love, I’ll see to the house.” 

She poured herself another glass of water and made a trip to the bathroom. 

There was a slight bit of pink as she cleaned herself after peeing and a slight sting as she peed. She caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and, yes, it was still her, hair mussed and makeup smudged, but something wild and elemental in her gaze as she removed her eye makeup. 

She walked into her bedroom setting the glass of water on her nightstand. 

She heard Ben moving about, switching off music and lights 

Switching off her bedside lamp, her room was lit by a sliver of waning crescent moon and the streetlights below their building. 

She slid into bed and Ben was there, stretching out beside her and pulling her to cuddle against his chest. 

He kissed her hair. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight, love.” 

She snuggled against him, well satisfied, Ben’s arms clasped tightly around her. 

From outside came the sounds of celebration and fireworks. 

They drifted into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

She woke up anchored to Ben’s chest and feeling blissed out. She really did need to pee and started to gently lift his arm and wriggle free. The arms around her tightened, his head pressed against hers as he emitted a deep and contented ‘Mmm’. 

“Ben. Ben let go, I need to pee”, she whispered. 

He grumbled at her, starting to press kisses onto her neck and shoulder, nibbling. 

“Ben”, she put a warning note in her voice. 

He stopped and sighed, “Baby, no. Stay here.” 

He removed an arm from around her and reached down to place something engorged against her ass cheeks. 

“So much love here for you, baby.” 

She had an arm free and reached around and slapped his ass. It wasn’t fully on target, but close enough to make him yelp and then shout with laughter. 

“Oh, yes!” 

He was fully laughing now, rolling onto his stomach. 

“Punish me, sweetheart, I’ve been a bad boy.” 

She choked back a giggle and knelt beside him. She really shouldn’t indulge him, but as she pulled back the covers she exclaimed ‘Wow!’ It was a sin to keep that ass covered. She slapped hard and he writhed a little on the bed. 

“The other one too, baby, it feels neglected else.” 

He was wriggling his butt suggestively now, so she obliged. 

“That’s your lot, Benny boy.” 

She was making for the door, giggling, with the thought that his ass had felt so firm and smooth under her hand. They would revisit this, but right now she needed to pee. 

“Come back to bed, I’m cold”, he whined after her. 

“I’ll think about it”, she called back. 

Peeing was pleasurable, with a little sting. Now she was up and about, she started to think of showering and dressing. She brushed her hair out and styled it into a topknot, then began cleansing her face. She hadn’t worn much makeup for the party and had taken off her eye makeup, but there was still residual mascara to remove. 

She ran the shower, yelping a little under the douche of cold water but knew it would get her circulation going and invigorate her. She heard the door go and the sound of peeing. Rolling her eyes, she realised Ben would be in her space more and more now they had been intimate. 

The shower curtain rattled as it was drawn to one side and Ben stepped in, crowding her. 

“Benny, get out you’re too big.” 

“Baby, I know”, said smugly as he pushed her out from under the stream of water. 

She picked up a facecloth and swatted at his penis. 

He drew back and wagged his finger at her, “Ahahah, play nice now.” 

Grumbling, she started to soap up and so did he; his hands moving across his chest and then down, soaping his penis and drawing back the foreskin making eye contact with her in a suggestive manner. Huffing a little at this show of what he had to offer, she turned her back on him. 

“Let me wash your back for you, sweetheart.” 

His big hands covered her back with suds and he started to soap between her butt cheeks. 

“Ben!” 

“So tense,” he murmured, his hands massaging her shoulders, drawing her into his body. 

“Relax, baby; let your man take care of you.” 

He was massaging her breasts now, hands moving easily over her soapy skin. She arched back against his chest giving a little moan of pleasure. His hands slid down her belly and into quite a different place. 

She yelped, but he moved to circling her clit and she soon began to moan for real. 

“See. See what good girls get?” 

His voice was a seductive rumble against her ear. Then he slapped her ass and began wetting his hair under the shower stream, grinning at her as she stood covered in suds and with no possibility to shove him out the way. 

“Monster!” 

He laughed again, putting on hair product and massaging it into his scalp. It occurred to her he was vain about his hair without being aware. He rinsed as she whined ‘Benny’, wanting to rinse off her body and get dry. He moved to one side as he put conditioner on the ends of his hair and combed it through, allowing her access to the shower. 

She stepped out as he took possession of the water stream again; wrapping herself in a fluffy bath towel and patting herself dry. She was applying moisturiser by the time he’d finished, the bathroom now well steamy. He wrapped a towel around his waist his body glistening with water, droplets running down the contours of his muscles. 

She picked up the towel she’d dried herself with and started patting him dry, admiring his frame. 

“You’re beautiful, Ben”, she remarked as she finished drying his torso, passing the towel to him finish drying himself off. 

She moved past him, touching his hips as he balanced a foot on the side of the tub drying his feet and legs. She also gave his butt a parting slap, not noticing that he immediately fell in behind her as she exited the bathroom until she was lifted off her feet in the manner of a football about to be passed and carried into her bedroom. 

“Benny, Benny!” she shrieked, laughing hard. 

He set her down his lips meeting hers in a claiming kiss. 

“Say that, again,” he murmured, “tell me I’m beautiful.” 

She leaned back and he moved his hands around her waist to support her. She looked into those deep brown eyes and said softly, “Ben, you’re beautiful.” 

She loosened the towel knotted at her breast, exposing her nakedness to him with an invitation, “Come, beautiful, come, let me worship you.” 

His eyes darkened and his lips fastened once more on hers, drawing her body firmly against him. His erection was very obvious now and she reached down a hand to caress him. He deepened his kiss, casting aside her towel and kneading her ass as she dragged his towel upwards and felt for his erection, grasping his length firmly. 

He walked her backward to their bed, murmuring “Let go, baby.” 

She drew her hand away as he laid her on the bed. She sat up and admired him all over again as he removed his towel and dropped it on the floor, eyes on his erection, reaching out and stroking it. 

He bent to kiss her gently, pushing her back on the mattress. She let go of him and clasped his flanks, feeling the soft satin skin with the hardness of muscle underneath. She started to knead him, trailing one hand up and down his spine. 

She’d drawn up her knees and he was pressed against her, arms supporting his weight and feet on the floor. He looked down at her, eyes and face soft. 

“Tell me you want me.” 

“I want you, Ben, all day long”, she caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, the feather light scratch of her nails making him shiver. 

He inserted a finger testing her readiness for him, and then he was all business, sliding into her - shallow thrusts at first, deepening until he was fully seated and driving them to orgasm. She clung onto him mourning that his hair was still too wet to bury her hands in, reaching up to briefly caress the edge of his ears with her thumbs. He dipped his head and groaned into her mouth, breath coming in quick pants, a hand moving to massage her breast. 

The sight and sound of him, the size and depth of him inside her, triggered her orgasm and she cried out his name, arching her back and digging her fingers into his flanks, gripping him hard. He shouted his release and gathered her to him, kissing her deeply, chasing the aftershocks with little thrusts into her before softening and pulling out. 

He pulled her to her feet, she barely able to stand, and then lifted her placing her in the bed. He got in beside her, pulling the covers over them, whispering his need for her, his gratitude that she’d stayed with him. She stroked his cheek, whispering back reassurances. They fell asleep, legs entangled, waking up again early afternoon. 

+++ 

Post holiday inertia set in, broken by the visit of her friends the first Saturday after new years for dinner, alcohol and the exchange of gifts. It was a great evening, and Rose bombarded her after with gushing texts about how scrumptious Ben was and how they were clearly more in love than the last time she’d seen them. 

This last observation spurred her on and in February she carefully chose a Valentine’s card for Ben, expressing her love for him and determining to say ‘I love you’ for the first time. 

Valentines fell on a working day and she got up early to place the card on the pillow in his room where he was sure to see it as he dressed for work, before scooting back to bed and the warmth of Ben’s big body. 

Cupid’s aim must have been off that day, because Ben came out of his room without the card and without a ‘Happy Valentines’ greeting for her. Should she say something or would it embarrass him – after all Valentines was all day if he’d forgot? 

On her journey to work, men were carrying bouquets of red roses, or single stems displayed in plastic packaging and she tried not to feel cheated. 

Two or three women at the clinic received their bouquets at work and there was great excitement and a few sentimental tears shed. She deflected inquiries about her Valentines plans and arrived back home torn between wanting to cry or fume. 

Collecting and opening her mail, she was ashamed of herself for doubting. Ben had mailed her card to her, which really was a more special way to receive it. She moved to their apartment door when she heard his key and cast herself into his arms, kissing him for all she was worth as he came through it. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he chided, “can’t a man get through the door before you ravish him?” 

“Happy Valentines”, she sang at him and watched his face fall. 

“Oh, shit, Rey, I forgot.” 

In a city full of flowers and love tokens being exchanged between lovers in full view, Ben Solo had missed Valentine’s Day. 

“Look, I’ll try to get us a table for this evening, if not, we’ll do something Saturday.” 

So he was aware that lovers would be out in force tonight and reservations hard to get? 

He divested himself of his coat and shoes and disappeared into his room. She made for her own room and was closing her dresser drawer when he entered, her card in his hand. 

“So sorry, baby, so sorry”, he folded her into his arms, murmuring his apologies between kisses. 

She submitted, making all the right sounds back, but her mind was elsewhere, brooding over the unsigned valentine’s card she had just hidden under her lingerie. 

She had thought it was from Ben, disguising his handwriting. Why wouldn’t she? Its sentiment read: “To the only woman I will ever love.”


	11. Chapter 11

Of course, he couldn’t get a reservation on Valentine’s; at least nowhere Ben would want to show up to, so he booked Saturday - except they didn’t go out Saturday. 

Ben received a call from Phasma, Friday morning. Would he and his wife like to come dine Saturday evening with Mr. Snoke? 

It would be a pleasure - this Saturday? 

Yes, dinner at 7pm, pre-dinner drinks at 6pm. Mr. Snoke would send a car. 

He began to say thank you, but she simply hung up. 

He stared at the receiver and then replaced it with something of a snarl. Phasma did not do civility. As Snoke’s PA and confidante she was answerable only to him. 

There were different theories about them: that she was secretly his wife, lover or sister. No-one ever got certified facts, but they were obviously close – and loyal to one another. 

Of course, there was always the option of challenging her behaviours, but there was an aura about Phasma that made one think that, maybe, that wasn’t a very good idea. 

On a good day, she made you feel like you were standing in just your shorts at a busy intersection. On a bad day, standing in the same place but buck naked, bent over with a probe up your ass. Best just suck it up. 

Now he just had to go home and give his wife the good news. That he’d let her down Valentine’s, he acknowledged, he’d been married to her nearly a year and had observed her moods. 

What he hadn’t understood was the effusiveness of her greeting when he walked into their apartment – especially when he saw the unopened Valentine card on his pillow and realised he’d missed his cue for a reciprocal romantic gesture. That she’d left it there that morning he soon confirmed, so something had occurred in his favour that he didn’t walk into a marital firestorm. 

He’d recalled she was closing the drawer where she kept her lingerie as he walked into their room. He knew she kept items of value hidden in there, her engagement ring for instance when she wasn’t wearing it. So he took advantage when she was in the bathroom to go looking. 

_Someone_ was interested in his wife romantically – probably sexually. _Someone_ had sent her an illicit Valentine card, with words in it that should never come from anyone but him. If that _someone_ thought they could steal her away from him they were very much mistaken. He would be vigilant, and when he found out who they were, there would be a reckoning. 

+++ 

He walked into their apartment with a dozen red roses wrapped in cellophane adorned with red hearts. She wasn’t home yet. He checked his phone, no missed message or call. He laid the flowers on the dining table and hung his coat and took off his shoes. 

He headed for his room, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. He paused, and then changed direction, heading for their room. 

He went straight for her lingerie drawer – the card had gone, he hoped she’d put it in the trash. He walked into the kitchen to check – the housekeeper had emptied it. 

When he had more time, he’d check her closet in case she’d moved it. He headed for his room to change. 

He heard her come in and her call, “Benny, I’m home”, and then her gasp of pleasure – she’d noticed the roses. 

He walked out in his boxers, “Hi, baby.” 

Her face was flushed with pleasure, “Benny, are these for me?” 

“They are.” 

She was heading for the kitchen with them. There was a bag of groceries on the table which he picked up, following her. She already had a vase out and was filling it from the faucet, pouring in the plant food. She arranged the roses to her satisfaction and came and put her arms around his waist, snuggling into him, looking at them where they stood on the counter and admiring the deep ruby glow of them. 

“Thank you, Ben, they are gorgeous.” 

She turned her face up to be kissed and he obliged, his mouth working against hers, letting her feel the softness of his lips which she said she loved more than anything – apart from all of him, obviously. Her hands were in his hair, Maker, how he loved it when she did that, or rubbed his ears. 

She broke from him, looking at him earnestly with those clear hazel eyes of hers. 

“Ben, you didn’t have too. I wasn’t mad at you, I promise.” 

He shot her an enigmatic look and saw the telltale blush creep into her cheeks, just faint but he knew what to look for. 

“Baby, I wanted to buy them for you. I let you down, I know that. I can be a little self-absorbed and focused on work, but I’ll do better, I promise. 

He saw her melt at his words. 

“Oh, Benny,” and then her lips were on his again. 

He manoeuvred her against the counter, nipping at her jaw. 

“Baby, I’ve got so much love to give you,” he pressed himself into her so she knew what sort of love he meant. 

“Ben,” she whispered huskily, “I bought red lace lingerie for Valentine’s.” 

He offered his services, “Then let’s go to our room and I’ll help you put it on.” 

She whispered again, “I’m wearing it right this minute.” 

She started unbuttoning her blouse. He reared back to watch her, his hips pressed firmly against her, his hands on her hips. Her skin looked golden – lit by the down lights under the kitchen cupboards, the red lace scarlet. She pulled off her blouse and began moving her hands to the waistband of her pants. 

“Ben, you need to move back aways so I can take these off.” 

He leaned in to kiss her again, cupping one of her breasts. She met his lips eagerly for a while then broke the kiss, pushing him back. She stepped out of her pants, holding him off with one hand, pushing her feet back into her shoes. He was trying to crowd her, get her into his arms and kiss her senseless. 

“No, Benny, take off your boxers and go sit on the counter.” 

He was inclined to argue, then she said one word, his name, in _that_ tone: “Ben!” and he complied. 

As he turned, she attached herself to him, pressing he face against his bare back, running her hands over his torso and pressing kisses into the soft skin of his back. 

“Good boy,” she crooned. Wow, did that do things to him. 

Her hands slipped under the waistband of his boxers and cupped his ass, then moved around to his erection, softly stroking him. He put his hand over hers stilling her movements. 

“Baby, I appreciate your care and attention, but I’m gonna lose control any minute now if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing.” 

“Well, we can’t have that. Strip, Benny boy, and get on that counter.” 

He found her tone and the order compelling and did as she asked. 

She stood before him, running her hands up and down his thighs, pressing her thumbs into the upper, fleshy part. 

“Ben, there’s just one more thing before I blow you.” 

He shivered at her words. 

“Ben, I love you very much.” 

Then her lips were on him, and for someone as inexperienced as she, she was really going for it. 

The sensations elicited by her tongue were mind blowing and she lightly grazed his tip with her teeth causing him to gasp out “Jesus, Rey!” She took this as encouragement and settled her mouth around him, gripping with a firm hand the base of his penis, pulling the soft skin back to expose the taut, smooth head for her ministrations. 

Her tongue was pressed against the tip now and she was making rapid pulls at it with her lips. Her hand began jerking his shaft and his eyes rolled back in his head as he leaned back on his forearms letting her do as she wished. She moved her free hand up to grasp his flank, her favourite grip. He felt the telltale signs he was going to come. 

“Rey,” his voice was low and hoarse, “baby you need to stop because I’m gonna come.” 

She raised her head. 

“Ben, I’m taking this right to the end, so you do what you gotta do.” 

Her head lowered over him again and she resumed her rhythm as he leaned forward over her, gripping the counter’s edge with one hand, placing the other in her soft hair. 

He felt the familiar tightness build, followed by his release. She kept her lips around him, gripping him as he thrust up chasing aftershocks. Then she let go and reached for a piece of kitchen paper, spitting into it. 

“Baby, I’m sorry.” 

“Ben, don’t be. I’ll get better at it, I promise.” 

He looked down at her, his young wife, her slim, lithe figure clad in red lace lingerie, face turned trustingly towards him, and he felt his heart lurch within him. 

He lowered himself from the counter and pulled her into his arms. 

“Rey Solo, I love you.” 

+++ 

She was surprisingly amenable to his changing their plans, when he finally got round to telling her. He thought her curiosity overrode any annoyance she may have felt. 

She totally had to rethink what she was going to wear and decided on tailored pants (Chanel) and a white silk blouse (also Chanel) and plain black pumps. 

The concierge called them well before 6pm that their car and driver had arrived. 

The driver was standing by the rear passenger door, waiting to open it for them. He was in a tailored uniform, very smart. He was also the driver who had brought her home the night Kylo Ren wined and dined her. 

She couldn’t help it; she flushed scarlet, wondering how she could explain all this to Ben. 

However, the driver made no sign of recognition, merely opening the door and wishing them both ‘good evening’ in a neutral tone. Her husband, however, had noticed, and though he made no remark he shot her one of his enigmatic looks. Make of it what she will. 

She was suddenly very hot, feeling sweat beading on her upper lip. She let go Ben’s hand and searched in her purse for a tissue to dab with. Again, her husband shot her one of his looks, but kept his counsel. 

She composed herself best she could and reached out to Ben, who took hold of her hand immediately. He leaned across to her and whispered, “I love you, baby.” 

She felt like bursting into tears. Truly, she was the world’s worst wife. 

The drive passed in a blur. In no time at all Ben was leaning into the car, calling her name and looking concerned. 

She tried to stand up and realised her seat belt was still fastened. She fumbled with the clasp and then Ben was there, opening the passenger door her side and unfastening her. 

She stumbled out of the car and he took the time to push her against the limo, kissing her gently in the way he knew she liked, lips softly moving against hers. 

“Rey, it’s natural you’re nervous meeting Snoke, but calm down. Just hold on to me, I won’t leave your side.” 

“Oh, Benny... “ 

“Hush, sweetheart, I’ve got you. Just breathe.” 

She locked eyes with him and saw only love and concern in them. She nodded, putting her arms around him, hands pressed against his back, under his jacket. The solid mass of him was reassuring. She could do this.


	12. Chapter 12

James Snoke’s house was built on a grand scale, standing in its own grounds. It dated from the Victorian era and had been modernised sympathetically, retaining many of its original decorative features. It was not decorated to period but with an eye for relaxed comfort. 

They were ushered in by a tall, fair-haired butler, but informally. Nothing about this house was meant to overwhelm, rather its purpose was to welcome. 

Rey, in her hyper state, responded to the calm, cocoon-like ambience of the house. 

Her wrap was taken from her and they were ushered into a comfortable sitting room, where Snoke stood by a lit fire dressed in slacks, an open-necked shirt and a well-loved cardigan, looking relaxed and happy. 

He moved forward, shaking Ben’s hand warmly. He hesitated, and then put out his hand to Rey. She had the impression he had wanted to kiss her cheek, but was too self-conscious – possibly because of his pitted face? 

In the distance were the sounds of dogs continuously barking, he sighed. 

“Are you afraid of dogs, Rey?” 

“I don’t think so,” she said, “but I’ve never kept one as a pet.” 

“Would you mind if I let mine join us? They are perfectly happy when I’m away from the house, but once I’m home they clamour to be with me. They are used to having me to themselves, but I’m aware not everyone likes or feels happy having dogs around.” 

“We can try,” she replied, taking Ben’s hand. 

He noted the action and pulled a handful of treats from his cardigan pocket. 

“Don’t worry, Rey, if brute discipline doesn’t keep them in order, bribery usually does the trick.” 

He looked over at his butler, waiting patiently for his orders, and spoke to him in an amused tone. 

“Charles, ‘Cry havoc! and let slip the dogs of war.” 

The butler smiled, bowed and left the room. 

Snoke turned back to Rey. 

“There are four of them; I’ll introduce them to you individually.” 

The barking had stopped and there was a distant thundering of paws on wooden flooring. Snoke stood listening, a fond smile on his face. 

The sound of scrabbling claws on wood could now be heard, and four dogs erupted into the room – two cocker spaniels, a Dalmatian and a black Labrador. They ran to their master, spotting the visitors and seeming ready to break off to investigate. 

Snoke, however, visibly had treats on offer and they sat before him, one of the spaniel’s woofing interestedly at them, then facing forward toward its master eager for a treat. 

Snoke spoke as he distributed largesse. 

“Whizzer is the Labrador, the two spaniels are Bail and Beru, and this is Fletcher,” tossing a treat the way of the Dalmatian, “aka my dog without a brain.” 

This was said lovingly and he bent forward to pat the Dalmatian’s head. At once three other heads were thrust under his outstretched hand competing for his caress. 

“I’ll let them loose in a moment. The same proverb applies to dogs and humans, ‘a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.’” 

He laughed at his joke, showing his empty hands to the dogs. They snuffled at them for a moment and then turned their attention to the visitors, the edge taken off their boisterousness. 

Ben they knew, and he was dismissed in short order. Rey, however, had their attention a little longer. Then they were back with their master, the two spaniels trying to jump on his knee as he sat in his armchair and pushed back with an emphatic ‘”No!” 

“Charles, if you’d like to serve drinks now.” 

The butler bowed and took their orders for drinks; whiskey for Snoke and Ben, a gin and tonic for Rey. 

Rey remarked on the beauty of the house. 

“Thank you. It’s really too big for me to rattle around in. It would be ideal for a family, there’s plenty of room for children, dogs and ponies here. We’ve got good schools in the area too.” 

“Sounds ideal,” observed Rey. 

“For the right family,” agreed Snoke. 

+++ 

Dinner was not elaborate, but beautifully prepared and presented, served to them by the butler and a maid. 

The dinner service was blue and white, the silverware weighty in their hands. They drank out of crystal glasses. 

The dining chairs they sat in were well-upholstered leather, inviting the diners to sit and linger – like sitting in a comfortable armchair. The dining room itself radiated comfort and understated luxury, decorated with wood panelling and curtains in a deep blue. 

Snoke and Ben touched on business, which Rey didn’t mind, but the conversation ranged over a variety of subjects. She felt a little ignorant, but was not made to feel so; the atmosphere was too relaxed for that. 

They made their way back to the sitting room, she carrying her unfinished glass of wine and wandering around the room taking in the homely touches. 

There was a table with photographs displayed upon it, mostly of military personnel. She picked up a photo frame and a young James Snoke stared back at her, dressed in a Marine’s dress uniform. 

She exclaimed aloud, which caught the two men’s attention. They both ambled over. 

She raised her eyes to Snoke, “You were a Marine?” 

He laughed, “You sound surprised.” 

She blushed, apologising, “I meant no offence.” 

He laughed again, “None taken.” 

He took the photo from her and looked down at his young, callow self. 

“Yes, I joined the Corp. Maybe for the wrong reasons, I was an orphan trying to escape poverty and the system, but I stayed because I found family.” 

He had all of her attention. 

“You were an orphan?” 

“Yes, yes I was – am.” 

She licked her lips; she wanted to share but didn’t want to sound pathetic, or worse, have his or Ben’s pity. 

“I was an orphan too – am an orphan.” 

He raised those piercing blue eyes of his to meet her hazel ones. 

“Well, then, young Rey, you’ve had a taste of what the world is really like when you have no belonging.” 

She felt tears prick at her eyes, and swallowed hard. She felt Ben draw close, not touching but standing close. 

She turned back to the table to divert her thoughts. 

He pointed out his unit photos, reminiscing about some of the men he had lived with, fought alongside. There were a couple of photos at the back of men in civilian clothing. She pointed at these. 

He reached for one of them, explaining the man in the photo was as a brother to him, closer to him than a biological brother could ever be. 

He reached for the second photo. It was of Snoke and the same man. A gangly boy stood between them, a teenager, with the arms of both men draped around his shoulders. She felt a cold shiver go down her spine; the boy in the picture was unmistakably Kylo Ren. 

She kept her voice as calm as she could, “Who is this?” 

“Oh, that’s my true brother’s son, Kylo Ren. He works for me now, as Head of Security.” 

Kylo Ren, Head of Security, First Order, she thought numbly, who thinks Ben is having an affair with Bazine Netal because I told him he was. 

She pulled herself together to find Snoke watching her closely, but not unsympathetically. Ben was still stood close, to the side and a little behind her. 

“Where did you go, young Rey?” 

“Oh ... just revisiting the past.” 

“The recent past, perhaps?” 

Her eyes flew to his. What could he mean? What could he know? 

She smiled weakly and changed the subject. 

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, though her thoughts had a tendency to wander. She tuned in again, hearing Snoke inviting them to stay overnight. 

“We’ve come unprepared,” Ben was saying, “not even a toothbrush between us.” 

Snoke waved a hand airily, “Oh, a toothbrush is no problem.” 

”Anything you need laundering just put outside your door, the staff will deal with it. I’d like you to stay, to walk the estate with me tomorrow and show you around the house.” 

Ben looked at her. 

“Ben, I don’t mind.” 

“Thank you, sir, it would be our privilege.” 

Snoke waved a languid hand, “I’ll have none of that. In my home I’m James, there’s no formality in this house.” 

His dogs were whining a little. 

“Well, I’d better walk these four before they settle for the night. I’ll bid you goodnight and see you at breakfast tomorrow. Don’t feel you have to be up at the crack of dawn – I won’t be.” 

He rose and walked out, followed by his dogs, calling for Charles. 

The butler entered, asking them if they required a nightcap or anything else before retiring. 

No, they were both ready for bed. 

He led them up the stairs and into a wing of the house. The corridor to their room was thickly carpeted, muting even Rey’s heels. 

Charles stopped outside a door and informed them that this was their room. 

“I’ve laid out nightwear for you both and new toothbrushes. If there’s anything else you require, please dial the extension located on the bedside phone. If there’s any laundry to be done, please leave it outside the door.” 

They thanked him and he bowed and walked away. 

+++ 

The bedroom reflected the aesthetic of the entire house, understated comfort and luxury. 

The bed had been turned back and the lamps lit. At the end of the bed were silk pyjamas, black for Ben, cream for her – in their proper sizes. 

She wandered into the bathroom, a shower and a lovely deep bathtub and the softest, fluffiest of towels and two equally soft and fluffy bathrobes. 

She walked back into the bedroom to find Ben had removed his jacket and was taking off his shoes and socks. 

She started undressing; Ben was looking over the silk pyjamas. 

“Wow, these feel wonderful... like silk.” 

He laughed at his own joke. 

She put out a hand to feel the lustrous material. It did indeed feel wonderful. 

“Benny, don’t you think it strange both pairs are in our sizes?” 

He shrugged. 

“Not really. You’ve seen this place - it’s dedicated to comfort and relaxation. He must have guests all the time and be prepared for any eventuality. I mean, they keep spare toothbrushes – why not sleepwear?” 

“I guess.” 

They undressed and got into the night things, Ben ringing down for laundry to be collected. Then they went into the bathroom together, to brush their teeth at the double sink. 

She finished first and said, as casually as she could, “Ben, what are the rules for inter-personal relationships at First Order?” 

“It depends. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, I just wondered how your affair with Bazine would be regarded.” 

He stared at her, dumbfounded. 

“Are you for real? I am not having an affair with Bazine, and haven’t had an affair with her. I told you what happened between us and it’s the truth.” 

“Ok, wrong way of saying it. Suppose, theoretically, you were having an affair, what then?” 

He stared at her, trying to gauge where she was going with this. 

Knowing what she’d done, she was finding it difficult to meet his eyes. 

“Ok,” he said finally, “as she’s married and I’m married, if it could be proven, one of us would get fired, maybe both of us.” 

He turned and stalked out the bathroom, she followed. 

“Benny, I’m sorry. I was just curious.” 

“Yeah, well curiosity just killed our sex life. I can’t believe you brought this up out of nowhere. I thought we established this last couple of days how we felt about each other. Hell, Rey, I told you I love you and you want to talk about a nonexistent affair with Bazine? Way to go, Rey, way to go.” 

“Ben, don’t be mad at me, it was just a question. I know you’re not having an actual affair with her, it was just a dumb question.” 

“You think?” 

He was getting into bed now, clearly upset, and turned off his bedside light. 

She got in beside him, turning off her own light and snuggling into his broad, unyielding back. 

“Benny, I’m truly sorry and I hope you forgive my dumbness. I love you.” 

She pressed a kiss against his silk clad back, turning her back on him; mind afire with speculations and suppositions. 

She felt him turn and was pulled into him. She wriggled and turned toward him. 

“Baby, I’m sorry too. Maybe I overreacted, it’s a sensitive subject. Plus I had plans to defile this bed with you and then you brought up _her_ name.” 

She put a hand up and started to card through his hair, adding a couple of caresses to his ears. As she anticipated, his body relaxed and he nuzzled her hair, working down to her lips. 

She put a leg in between his and he adjusted his position to lie over her, caging her in. 

She fumbled with his pyjama top and got her hands on his flanks, gripping them and kneading into them with her thumbs. She felt his erection grow. He broke his kiss. 

“Let’s get these ridiculous things off.” 

They broke apart, pulling off the restricting garments and flinging them out into the darkness of the room. She reached for him, his solid warmth settling between her legs, grasping his erection and guiding him into her. He felt so good. 

“This is where you belong, Ben,” she whispered to him. “Nothing can change that.” 

She felt detached as he thrust into her, her knees drawn up, her hands caressing the broad muscular back which surged over her like the ebb and flow of a tide, its movements becoming staccato as he thrust toward his peak. 

His breathing changed, his breath sobbing in his throat as she whispered encouragement to take what he wanted from her, a vessel for his use, using words which she knew drove him toward dominance over her body as an incantation. 

The darkness assisted her, whispering to him to do this thing, bury himself deep within her and release his seed without thought to consequence, claiming her before God and angels. 

The bed’s protests grew louder as his thrusts grew frantic with the primal madness which had come upon him and the imminence of his orgasm, and then silenced upon his release. 

“Sweet Jesus, Rey,” he gasped out as his rational mind sought to reclaim him, “are you trying to kill me?” 

She made no answer, finding his lips and drawing him back to her as their bodies parted, his head lying against her breast. His heart was hammering then slowed as he plunged into sleep at the breast of the feral orphan he’d married – she was Rey of Jakku and Ben Solo was hers to keep. 

Snoke would understand, was her last thought, he’d found his belonging too. Snoke would understand. 

+++ 

In the morning she was sweet Rey Solo once more, sharing a bath with her besotted husband and being persuaded by him to ride him hard, so that water slopped over the edge of the tub. Standing behind him as he shaved, head pressed against his back, arms around him with hands pressed against his heart, telling him how beautiful he was and how much she loved him. Shrieking with laughter as he lashed out with a damp towel at her butt at a wisecrack she’d made at his expense. 

They walked down to breakfast together in high, good humour; clothes laundered and pressed – a testament to the hospitality of James Snoke. 

Their host was reading a newspaper at the breakfast table, surrounded by newsprint. His dogs lay around on the floor, dozing. Fletcher raised his head at their coming and then flopped back down with a sigh. 

“I trust you slept well?” 

Ben answered in the affirmative, Rey with a faint blush. 

Snoke noticed the blush. 

“After breakfast, I can show you the house and then we can walk the grounds. I’m hoping I can persuade you to stay for lunch?” 

His plan was agreeable and they settled down to be served breakfast, Rey ordering her customary Sunday breakfast of scrambled eggs with toast. 

Conversation was general and they wandered later through the house, which was indeed large and beautiful. The dogs ambled after them, flopping down whenever they stopped. Whizzer, she found, had taken a liking to her and sat on her feet whenever they paused to look at something. She stroked the top of his head and scratched behind his ears. 

The grounds were indeed extensive, and there was a stable block and paddocks, as well as formal gardens. In addition, a vast expanse of lawn lay at the back of the house which was begging for children and dogs to gambol on it. She could see it all in her mind’s eye. 

Turning away, she found James Snoke looking at her. They locked eyes and an unspoken question passed between them. She didn’t break eye contact, eventually nodding her agreement and a brief look of satisfaction passed over his face, before he turned away and pointed out something which might interest them. 

She walked between both men back to the house, holding Ben’s hand. 

She didn’t need to fear anyone. Not Bazine Netal, nor Poe Dameron, nor Kylo Ren - two orphans had found each other and made common cause.


	13. Chapter 13

Ben Solo had never thought of himself as a jealous guy, but then he’d never been married before, or been in love before, or experienced the intimacies of a long-term relationship before. 

He’d had all kinds of sex, especially in his early to mid twenties, culminating in full on hate sex with Poe Dameron’s wife – the nadir of his sexual activity and an event of which he was still deeply ashamed. 

He was currently having great sex with his wife, but he wasn’t just jealous of someone else having sex with her, it was way more than that. 

How could he describe what it was like to look into her clear hazel eyes and have her whisper to him, like it was the biggest secret ever, that she was wearing red lace lingerie bought for Valentine’s. 

Or to have her caress his ears, which he’d always hated, and hear her murmur ‘I love you, Benny’ as her go to line for seduction - where before it had taken a D cup in black lingerie and stilettos to get him not nearly as hard. 

Or her latest, where she’d convinced him that he was both King and Emperor, and if he didn’t pound into her to the uttermost of his strength and fill her womb with his seed worlds, no galaxies, would fall. Then let him nestle against her breast like a newborn, where he awoke the next day to find he had to coax her into taking a bath with him because, she told him, they couldn’t take liberties in another person’s house. 

No, it was these intimacies, and her body; he was determined to guard fiercely – jealously. 

To that end, one of his first tasks Monday morning was to bring up the drivers logs on his work computer and check the bookings for the night of the First Order Christmas party. She’d so obviously recognised the driver who had taken them to Snoke’s, and it had had a profound effect on her. 

He recalled her assertion from that night that she’d dined alone, contradicted by their concierge saying she’d been dropped off by a limousine driven by a smartly dressed chauffeur. 

Well, he was about to find out the truth... 

...he sat back in his chair puffing out a breath. This was complicated. 

Somehow, his wife had met and dined with Kylo Ren, First Order head of security, who had arranged a car to see her safely home; Kylo Ren, protégé of James Snoke one of the most powerful men in the city and beyond. 

He thought about her recent questions regarding Bazine and himself. He imagined there had been a tete-a-tete between his wife and Ren on that very subject. 

Going on her reaction to the First Order chauffeur, she was either nervous of being found out in her lie or had not previously realised who Ren was employed by. He favoured the latter. 

Sure, there was a time when he lived in terror of what he’d done with Bazine being revealed, but that was _before_ , before he’d met the tiny woman he’d made his wife. Now, well now it could all go, every bit of it, as long as he was left standing with her wrapped in his arms. 

They so obviously needed to talk. 

+++ 

She exited the clinic at 5pm with a couple of co-workers to find her husband waiting on the sidewalk hunched up in an overcoat of unmistakable Italian cut, black and white dogtooth check with a plain black collar, currently turned up against a sharp February breeze. 

“Ben!” 

She heard appreciative noises coming from her co-workers, the coat enhancing her husband’s dark beauty, and she introduced them. He had by this time tucked her against him and nodded a greeting to the two women, who were clearly salivating over him. This awoke an unexpected feeling in her of jealousy. 

Apart from Rose, who went into raptures every time she met him, she’d never been with him in the company of other women who were not her friends to gauge their reaction to him. Going by her co-workers response, who for once were in no hurry to get home, it was pretty major. She tried to push down the jealousy which had ignited as fierce as any flame inside her. 

That Ben wasn’t interested in them was pretty clear as he bent his head toward her and claimed a kiss, blanking her co-workers attempts to engage with him. 

“Sweetheart, I thought we could go grab an early dinner, if you’re agreeable?” 

“Ben, I’d love to. Let’s call it a belated Valentine’s.” 

“Call it anything you want,” he kissed her again. 

He raised his head to see the two women still standing there and nodded his head at them in acknowledgement, merely saying ‘ladies’ before drawing her away. 

“Goodnight,” she called back over her shoulder, “see you tomorrow”, and then they were walking away, he leaning into her, arm firmly clamped around her shoulder cuddling her. 

She had all sorts of questions for him, but he was clearly only interested in getting them out of the cold. 

They rode the subway, he’d booked the Italian restaurant where they’d dined before, and she reflected over how different this journey was. He still had her pressed to his chest with one arm, but now they looked into each other’s eyes, exchanging kisses and softly murmured ‘I love you’s’, her arms wrapped around his waist. 

They rode the same escalator, as before his chin on her shoulder and an arm around her waist. This time, however, her hand was clasped over his, anchoring him to her with a gentle pressure. 

He’d booked the same booth and once more they had to sit side by side, their coats a barrier between them and the world. 

The kitchens didn’t open until 6pm, but it was nearly that and their orders could be taken and drinks could be served. He chose a bottle of Gavi di Gavi to share, expensive she saw, but delicious Ben said. She felt like squealing with delight – it was obviously going to be a special dinner. 

The wine was brought in a silver cooler, with olives and a tin of breads for dipping. A dish of olive oil with a splash of balsamic vinegar in it was set between them. Ben poured them both a half glass of wine and they discussed the menu, opting to go straight in with a main course. 

Their order placed, hands languidly reaching for olives and bread, they sipped their wine his arm fast around her. 

He cleared his throat nervously and she looked at him enquiringly. 

He began as casually as he could, given her wide eyed contemplation of him. 

“I pulled up the First Order driver’s logs today.” 

She broke eye contact and took a sip of her wine, “Did you now. Why would you do that?” 

That was so not the reaction he was expecting. 

“I couldn’t help notice your reaction to our driver Saturday evening.” 

“Ah.” 

“Rey, should we just cut to the chase? I know you didn’t eat dinner alone the night of the Christmas party.” 

She put down her glass, her tone cool, “You’re right, I didn’t. I dined with a man called Kylo Ren, head of security First Order. Of course, I didn’t know he worked for First Order at the time, but I do now.” 

“You’re playing this pretty cool. This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.” 

“What were you expecting, that I’d deny everything?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“That would be pretty pointless as you’ve checked the log and found out he arranged a car to bring me home,” she pointed out. 

There was no answer to that, he changed tack. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

“No, well not when I figured he couldn’t harm you. You said you hadn’t had an affair with Bazine, and even if you had they’d have to prove you had.” 

“So you did discuss me with him?” 

“Yes, yes I did. I’d followed you, you see, that night. Well, actually it was Bazine I followed and I saw you both together. I left before the main event. Well, I thought you were on your way to the main event.” 

She took a sip of wine and continued, “We met in a bar first, and he was going for a hook up I think, but then he saw how upset I was and took me to dinner instead.” 

His grip on her tightened and he leaned in to kiss her possessively. 

He came up for air after hearing repeated coughing and a tentative ‘excuse me, sir’. Their server had brought their food, putting the plates down and disappearing just as fast as she could. 

His appetite had quite gone as he picked at his food, his wife steadily working through her pasta, she was starting to unnerve him with her calmness. 

At last she pushed her plate away and he took possession of her again, pulling her close, as close as he possibly could. 

She touched his face and said his name in a tender tone, “Ben.” 

He buried his face in her neck, his voice muffled, “Did he touch you.” 

“No, Ben, he didn’t touch me.” 

She thought of how Ren had fastened her evening coat and how intimate an action it had seemed at the time. 

He was working on some instinct because he raised his head, gazing into her face, “But something happened between you.” 

“He buttoned up my coat, is all.” 

She saw some emotion working his face and knew he was getting upset. 

“Ben, let’s pay the bill and go. This is not the place for all this. Believe me nothing happened between us, certainly not sex, you of all people should know that.” 

He was struggling to speak, to convey what he was feeling. 

“He saw you in that dress,” he finally got out, “he was alone with you and you were in that dress.” 

Clearly, what he was saying made perfect sense to him, less so to her. 

“If you can call being in a restaurant alone.” 

She looked around the restaurant they were in and noticed the server and barman were both riveted at the drama being played out in their booth, averting their eyes as hers caught theirs. 

“Ben, please, we need to go home and talk.” 

“Did he send you the Valentine?” 

“What!” 

“Did he send you the Valentine?” 

“Ben, have you been going through my things? How did you know about that?” 

He was stubbornly not answering her, repeating his question. 

“Did he send you that Valentine?” 

“I don’t know who sent it. Matt could’ve sent it; I dance with him at every social. Maybe he has a crush on me. Ben, we need to go.” 

“No, he sent it. He saw you in that dress and now he wants you, I know it”, he choked out. 

She was starting to get annoyed with him. 

“Ben, you do what you want, but I’m going home.” 

“Sure, you go home. Take out your Valentine from where you hid it and think about him - think about him touching you.” 

She looked at their wine glasses; they’d drunk not even a half glass each so he couldn’t be drunk, just unreasonable she thought sourly. 

He was moving, snatching up his coat and on his way out of the restaurant. 

She caught the sudden tension in the server’s posture and imagined she was anticipating the bill not being paid. She beckoned her over requesting the bill and to have the wine resealed, handing over her card in payment and leaving a large tip. 

As she slid out of the booth and put on her coat, she was aware of the other diners dropping their eyes to their plates to avoid eye contact with her – apparently she and Ben had been providing the evening’s entertainment. 

As she stepped through the door onto the street clutching the bottle of wine a sudden buzz of conversation started up, thankfully cut off as the door swung closed behind her. She vowed then and there never to set foot in the place again. 

She made her solitary way home, wondering where her volatile husband had got to. She called him as she stood on the subway platform; her call went straight to voicemail. 

‘Ok, mister,’ she thought, ‘wallow in it – whatever ‘it’ was’. 

She sent him a text asking him to come home. 

+++ 

He hadn’t got very far before he began to feel dumb over his temper tantrum. What was he thinking? 

He’d walked out on his wife because his imagination had gotten the better of him. 

When he heard Ren had helped her on with her coat, he’d enacted a scene in his head where Ren had helped her take it off, _undressing her_. Escorting her to their table with his hand placed in the small of her back, no doubt hiding an erection as he sat opposite her caused by the soft swell of her breasts visible in that dress and his jealousy had spiked. 

Why had he pressed her on the Valentine’s? 

It was obvious at the time she thought he had sent it. Ok, she’d hidden it from him, but maybe she didn’t want him to feel bad – he had forgotten to buy her one after all. 

He’d walked about three blocks and stopped to mull over what he should do next when it occurred to him his wife may not have the means to pay the restaurant bill. He felt a hot flush of shame surge through him at abandoning her, and turned and started the trudge back. 

The possible consequences of his actions were evident when he returned to the restaurant – the server could not meet his eye as he entered. Ignoring her, he looked across to the booth where he and his wife had sat. She had gone, but he asked anyway if the bill had been settled. Assured that it had been he turned to go, aware of nudges and nods amongst some of the diners. He had not realised he had been so loud in his jealousy. 

He headed for home. 

She was in her room when he entered their apartment. She came out wearing pink pyjamas, the trousers of which had a red and white polka dot trim at the hem. She looked very young without makeup, her hair down. 

She walked up to him and took his hand, those hazel eyes turned up to him. 

“I don’t know who sent the Valentine’s. When I opened it I thought it was from you. I put it away when I realised it wasn’t.” 

She swallowed back tears, “Ren may have sent it, or Matt. I don’t know. I ripped it up and threw it away next day. You can search my room if you wish, search the whole apartment.” 

”I’m sorry I made you unhappy, I didn’t mean to, but I did.” 

She drew in a shuddering breath. 

“It’s not a problem if you want me to leave. I won’t be going to anyone else, it’s important you know that. I can go now if you want, it won’t take me long to pack.” 

Now it was his turn to draw in a breath, hissing at his stupidity. 

He drew her into his body, looking down at her, her face still but her eyes glossy with unshed tears. 

“You don’t make me unhappy, you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s just that I’ve never had anyone who was truly mine and for a moment I lost my mind through jealousy. Rey, that wasn’t me at the restaurant that was my jealousy talking.” 

She reached up to touch his face. 

“What do we do now, about us?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to ask you to forgive me.” 

“I forgive you,” she stood on tiptoe for his kiss. He felt moisture on his cheeks and knew it to be her tears. What a despicable person he was. 

He held her close as the tears fell, catching them at first on his fingers then, as they flowed quicker, kissing them away. She was mostly silent as she wept making little noises as she swallowed her sobs, sniffles as she tried to regain composure. 

He went to lift her and she sprang up, catlike, wrapping her legs around his waist, burying her head in his neck. He walked over to their coffee table and snagged a bunch of tissues, drying her tears and getting her to blow her nose. Then he walked her to their bedroom, laying her down and stripping off his coat and jacket and removing his shoes and tie. 

Lying down beside her, he pulled her into his arms and cuddled her, pressing kisses to her hair and leaning down to touch her lips with his. 

He fell asleep first, and as she waited for sleep to claim her she thought about her life before Ben. It was characterised by want in each and every aspect. Maz had done a lot to alleviate her need for food, clothing and shelter and she was able to send money to her every month in gratitude because of Ben’s generosity. 

The want of family still drove many of her actions though – this ill-advised marriage for instance, grasping at a chance to belong, ignoring the shaky odds against it succeeding. 

Civilisation was a veneer, she believed. People were tribal in their nature, and as an orphan she had suffered lack of clear identity and protection because of not belonging to someone. 

By sheer happenstance, or dumb luck if you would, she had found her belonging. She intended to keep it.


	14. Chapter 14

Her reception at work the next day was frankly incredulous (and just a little bit insulting), _”You’re_ married to Ben Solo?” 

“Indeed I am,” replied Rey, trying to ignore the inference in the question. 

It was obvious, more than obvious, that her relationship with the two colleagues who had seen her with Ben had undergone a sea change. Patrice, in particular, a pneumatic blonde, was looking at her in quite a calculating manner, which made Rey start to feel more and more uncomfortable as the day progressed. 

It reinforced her supposition that neither woman thought she was a suitable marriage mate for Ben, for reasons she was loathe to inquire. 

Just how unsuitable they judged her became clear at quitting time. Of Patrice there was no sign, and Kaydel was delaying them heading for home – looking for something she’d mislaid. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Rey called out to her, “but I have to go, Ben’s waiting on me.” 

The something lost was then suddenly found and they headed for the exit. As they cleared the doors to the clinic, Rey realised she’d been duped. Patrice was with Ben, pressed close to him, the pair of them apparently deep in conversation. Rey glanced at Kaydel, seeing a smug smile on her face. “Sorry,” Kaydel mouthed, and then was on her way home. 

It was all happening far too quickly for Rey to assimilate, for when she turned back to where Ben was, Patrice's hand was in his hair and they were kissing. 

She ought to have gone up to them and made her presence known, what she did was to slip unnoticed past them heading for the subway, her inner hurt child triggered by the sight of their embrace. 

She had woken that morning clasped in Ben’s arms. Though there was a certain reserve between them, both conscious in the cold light of day of their respective parts in the previous evening’s drama, enough of their previous intimacy remained to communicate openly. He had taken her to work and arranged to meet after. 

He would take her to dinner to start over, and they would talk through their relationship and their expectations of it, a little late, perhaps, but better than never. 

Now, as she walked away from him, she felt numb inside, suddenly doubting Ben’s version of events with Bazine. Was it really fear of losing his parents that had kept him in thrall to Bazine, or rather fear of losing his job because of a full on affair?” 

She didn’t want to go back to the apartment, and had decided to call Rose and crash with her overnight. When she reached the subway station, she noticed a couple of cabs parked up, and on impulse she snagged the lead cab and gave directions to the driver. 

As she accessed her phone, a call came through from Ben, which she dismissed. She then looked up the opening times for a certain Italian restaurant and notified the driver of a change in direction. 

Ben was calling again and she dismissed the call, following up with a text to him: ‘Enjoy your evening with Bazine Mark II’. She then turned off her phone. 

The bar was just the same as she remembered it, the same barman on duty too. 

She thought she caught a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he was addressing her as an new customer, so she quelled the impulse to say ‘Yes, it’s me again’. She sat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, sipping it with real appreciation. 

Lost in her own thoughts, she missed a suit at the bar preparing to make a move on her, and the barman grasping his wrist to stop him. 

“Nothing but trouble there, boy,” he growled, “she belongs Snoke.” 

The suit subsided, foregoing the chance of attractive female company and the chance of a hook up, settling instead for alcohol. 

She finished her whiskey and checked the time. It was time to go. She paid for her drink and set off for the restaurant where she’d dined with Ren. 

As she retraced her steps, she reflected on the walk she’d made with him in December and the changes in her life since. In many ways everything had changed but nothing had changed – she was still as insecure as ever in her marriage. 

The restaurant had not long opened and she would be the only diner for a little while. 

The owner, (‘call me Salvatore’ he told her), bustled forward, taking her hands in his and commenting once more, “Nice touch, lady.” 

He led her to the booth she’d previously occupied with Ren, taking her coat and scarf from her – she kept her beanie on, her hair flowing over her shoulders. 

Salvatore gave way to a server, disappearing with her outer clothes. 

She asked for a glass of wine from Puglia, her lips twisting in a brief smile of reminiscence recalling her introduction to the wine, courtesy of Ren. There was a little delay before it came, accompanied by bread and olives, and a little after that she was aware of a dark presence as she perused the menu. Looking up, Ren was stood by her table looking down at her, his expression unreadable. 

She was so pleased to see him, someone she didn’t have to hide the truth from, who knew about her situation with Ben – if not the whole truth of her marriage. The smile of greeting she gave him took his breath away; it was one of pure untrammelled happiness. 

“May I join you?” his voice was low and deep, a little husky. 

“Yes. Yes, of course you may”, she was rising from the booth catching at his hands and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek in greeting. He felt the spot burn where her lips touched. 

They parted and sat down opposite each other. A server appeared with a glass of red wine for him. 

Rey laughed, “A wine of Puglia, I believe.” 

He grinned back at her, “It better be!” 

Indeed it was, and after he took an experimental sip they touched glasses, struggling to think of a toast this time. 

She deferred to him once more, letting him order for the both of them. When the order had been placed and the menu cards taken away, he regarded her, taking in the pink, crocheted beanie and the glossy chestnut hair that cascaded over her shoulders. 

“So, Rey, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” 

She hesitated and then went with the truth. 

“I was meant to dine with Ben. I left work to find him on the sidewalk in the arms of another woman. He seems to make a habit of that”, she added dryly. 

He was torn, one part of him sympathising with her for putting up with such a dick husband, the other part a little hurt that their unscheduled meet was to provide her with a shoulder to cry on. 

“So, trouble in paradise?” 

She caught the bitter edge to his voice. 

“Please don’t think I came here to unload. I see this place as a refuge. I did _not_ expect to see you here. I was going to eat dinner and then go to a girlfriend’s for the night.” 

He regarded her steadily. There was such a lot he wanted to say to her, foremost; run away with me. He doubted they would make one state over before Snoke was breathing down his neck. 

She was speaking again and he tuned in. 

“We spent the weekend at Mr. Snoke’s house. I hadn’t realised he’d been in the Marine Corp. – with your father too. There was a photo of them with you. You were certainly a tall drink of water as a teenager!” 

He groaned. 

“Don’t tell me he’s still displaying that photo?” 

“Afraid so!” 

She was laughing at him and he grinned back. 

“It was quite an insight, the visit I mean. I had thought he was a little creepy when I met him new years, but at home he’s quite a sweetie. You should see him with his dogs, so fond.” 

“Yes, he can be, when he’s off duty. Make no mistake though, Rey, he’s a very dangerous man.” 

She tilted her head, birdlike, “How so?” 

“When you’re his, you’re his, there’s no getting loose, and Maker protect the person who hurts you. Ren thought a moment – or has the potential to hurt you.” 

A thought flashed through her mind. 

“Does he know about Ben and Bazine?” 

He regarded her a moment. 

“Rey, you have to give me your word, anything I say from now on you won’t repeat – to anyone.” 

She nodded, “I swear.” 

“Yes, he knows about Ben and Bazine and has set events in motion to set things right. Just sit tight and that situation will be resolved.” 

Her lips formed a silent oh! 

He looked at her questioningly. 

“You do want it resolved?” 

She fiddled with her silverware. 

“Ben saw my reaction to the driver Mr. Snoke sent to collect us. He was the same one you had drive me home in December. Ben checked the driver’s logs and saw we’d met and dined together; he got jealous and walked out on me. Then he was back saying ‘I want to be with you’.” 

She mused over her next words, “Today I leave work and he’s kissing a co-worker, in full view of everyone on the sidewalk. To say I’m confused is an understatement. Right now, I would also like to kill him.” 

He took a sip of his wine, thinking over his next words. 

“He’s a dick.” 

She smothered a laugh. 

He continued, “But to be fair, he’s quite a catch.” 

She looked at him, incredulous, “He is?” 

He looked at her wonderingly. 

“You have no idea do you, what you’ve married into – who you’ve married.” 

She shrugged her shoulders, “He’s Ben.” 

He leaned back and regarded her. Yes, that would do it, he thought, her naturalness, her artlessness in her dealings with him would be like a glass of cool water in a desert to Solo – and he would want to drink of it constantly. And how intoxicating must that be to him, to any man or woman, to be wanted for himself alone. 

“I’m betting your co-worker knows who he is, what he represents, and I’m guessing _she_ was kissing him rather than the other way around.” 

She looked at him thoughtfully. 

“Actually, Patrice and Kaydel have been weird all day. They saw me with Ben yesterday, when he met me outside work. In fact, I got the distinct impression they thought me unworthy to be his wife.” 

“Rey, there are women out there who would trample you to get to Ben Solo, no matter how married he is.” 

She mulled his words over. 

“Kaydel kept me back from going out on time, and Patrice must have left the clinic early to intercept him.” 

She looked a little green around the gills. 

“Is this my life being married to Ben, the ground constantly being cut from beneath my feet? All I want is to belong to someone, to be part of something special, to have a family, marriage was supposed to deliver that and it hasn’t – just grief upon grief.” 

He wanted to tell her so much he wanted her to belong to him, and he’d give her those things if she’d run away with him. Then he heard Snoke’s words of warning echoing through his consciousness and dropped that notion. 

“Rey, I truly believe Solo wants those things too. However, if you are going to survive all the outside pressures, you’re going to have to toughen up and defend your claim.” 

“Easier said than done,” she replied, “especially for someone like me. All my life, it’s been easier to let things go and walk away, believing they weren’t mine to have anyway.” 

She continued, startling him with her words, “Seeing Ben tonight, not pushing Patrice away the minute she touched him, yet he can walk out on me because you’d seen the dress I wore in December and helped me on with my coat.” 

“What?” 

“I know. He said you wanted me because you’d seen me in my dress.” 

She looked across at him, anticipating derision on his face at Ben’s logic. Instead there was a faint pink blush on his cheeks. Surely Ben hadn’t interpreted their interaction right? 

“Kylo,” it was the first time she’d used his name and he felt a thrill shoot through him, “did you send me an unsigned Valentine?” 

He was instantly alert. 

“No, I didn’t. Presumably you received one?” 

“Yes, and because of the sentiment written inside I thought it was from Ben. It was the sort of thing a lover or a loving husband would write, but Ben didn’t send it. Can you believe Valentine’s passed him by? Ben is convinced you sent it me, but I’m guessing you didn’t?” 

No he hadn’t, but he thought he knew who had, a first move in a very unsavoury game. 

“Sorry, Princess, not guilty.” 

“Well, not that it matters. I tore it up and put it in the trash.” 

He merely nodded. 

Their food arrived and they started to eat, keeping the conversation casual and light. 

He’d said something to make her laugh when her husband walked in. 

+++ 

Ben was pale of face and wild of eye, striding toward her and pulling her out of the booth arms wrapping around her and squeezing hard, his face buried in her hair. She could feel the chill of the February evening on him. 

“What did I tell you,” his voice was agonised, “what did I tell you? I asked you never to disappear again. Have you any idea what you put me through, have you?” 

Her arms went around him. 

“Ben, I’m so sorry, so sorry.” 

His lips found hers, hungry and demanding. She opened her mouth to his tongue thrusting powerfully and insistently into her mouth. 

He raised his head to look down at her, “Rey, how could think, even for one second, I was kissing that woman? She hit on me and it was gross. I shoved her off and sent her on her way, but you’d gone. You left me. I came back for you, Rey, and yet you left me. How do you think that feels?” 

His mouth was on hers again, insistent and needy; she felt his hand wind around her hair, anchoring her to him. She put a hand up and tangled her fingers in his hair. He was pressing their hips together, like he wanted to join them and never part. 

He lifted his head, looking down at her pressed to his breast. 

“I want this marriage, do you?” 

Her voice was shaky as she replied, “Yes, Ben, it’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be married to you and to be happy.” 

“Then no more running, because you nearly killed me tonight. If there’s something we don’t understand we ask the other person to explain, ok? If we see or hear something we don’t like, we challenge it, ok?” 

“Yes, Ben, we’ll do all those things.” 

“Maker, Rey, I love you, I love you so much. You have to understand that’s why you can’t run anymore. I’m pretty sure I can’t live without you, and when you run it kills me.” 

The emotions of both were running hot now, and he pressed her to him once more, head tucked under his chin. 

His eyes fell on Ren. 

“You,” he snarled, “always when she runs she runs to you. What do you tell her, eh? Make her promises, bad mouthing me, it that what’s going on here? Seducing my wife with lies and empty promises.” 

He was letting go of her now, his stance belligerent, busking for a fight. 

“Ben, no. Ben, no!” 

She was gripping him now, clutching his coat, not letting go. 

“Ben, we need to go and be together, work all this out.” 

He looked at her, his face working, wanting to fight, but needing to love her and make her his own. 

He locked eyes with Ren, voice a snarl, “Stay away from my wife - final warning.” 

He turned his attention back to Rey, his voice softening. 

“Where’s your purse and coat, sweetheart?” 

She let go of his coat, diving into the booth for her purse. 

“I’ll get my coat.” 

She scurried over to Salvatore, who was standing beside the bar a look of concern on his face. 

“Sure, lady, sure, I’ll get your coat.” 

Ben was fishing notes out of his wallet, putting them on the table before Ren. Leaning toward him, he had the final word. 

“Stay away from my wife, Ren, stay away and don’t send her anonymous Valentine’s.” 

Rey was calling to him, voice tense with worry, wanting to get him away from Ren’s provoking presence. 

Ben backed off, maintaining eye contact with Ren until he reached Rey’s side, then he gathered her to him and drew her out into the street. 

Salvatore wandered over to Ren, beckoning a server to clear the table, a bottle of whiskey in hand and two glasses. 

“I see nothing’s changed with you,” he remarked, “still getting involved with the wrong type of woman, still enjoying living on the edge.” 

“Yeah, well,” Ren growled. 

Salvatore poured them both a generous measure of whiskey On the tongue it tasted rich and peaty, the flavour of it invoking the memory of a room lit by oil lamps and a banked up fire, cosy against the storm outside which was rattling the windows, and dogs sleeping peacefully at the feet of their master. 

Both men relaxed against the squabs of the banquette as the whiskey did it’s work. 

“You must be feeling sorry for me,” Ren remarked, “this is the good stuff.” 

“Well,” said Salvatore, “you may be a major pain in the ass, but if you weren’t around what’d I do for laughs?” 

“If that was a marriage proposal,” Ren quipped, “you’ll have to speak to Father.” 

Salvatore said something untranslatable in Italian. 

Ren raised his glass, “I’ll drink to that.”


	15. Chapter 15

Kylo Ren stood before James Snoke having made his report, those piercing blue eyes never wavering from their contemplation of him. He could feel his shirt collar getting tight and fought the urge to loosen his tie for relief. 

Snoke was seated and Ren was standing. According to all psychology this ought to have given him an advantage, how was it _he_ felt diminished? 

“How did you come by this information, Ren?” 

“Rey Solo told me.” 

There was a question in Snoke’s raised eyebrows. 

“We were hav... eating dinner together and she told me”, Ren winced internally. 

“I see,” the sibilant was sounded as a hiss. “Clearly, I failed to communicate effectively that Rey Solo is off limits to you.” 

”No sir, not at all, it was sheer happenstance. I walked into the restaurant to get dinner and she was already there.” 

“Already there”, Snoke repeated, his blue eyes glinting with something unfathomable. 

“Yes, there had been a falling out between her and Solo.” 

This got Snoke’s attention, “A falling out?” 

“Yes, apparently two of her work colleagues colluded, and she exited the clinic where she works to find her husband in the arms of a co-worker being kissed.” 

“They colluded, you say?” 

“Yes, she was detained so that the woman in question could make a play for Solo, and unfortunately Rey didn’t stay to call her on it – I believe it was too reminiscent of Bazine. She was going to stay over with a girlfriend and stopped off to get dinner.” 

“So, an emotionally distressed Rey Solo stopped off to get dinner at a restaurant which you frequent ... mmm, interesting.” 

Ren didn’t like how that sounded. 

“Anyway, Solo came and claimed her and took her home.” 

Snoke nodded, deep in thought. 

Finally he spoke, “Do we have enough on Bazine to act, do you think?” 

“Yes, sir, and I think we should move now before Bazine pushes Matt to take the next step.” 

“I agree. I’ll cancel all socials until further notice, citing the budget being badly overdrawn and we need to audit. Then I’ll deal with Matt.” 

There was a distinctly venomous note in Snoke’s voice which boded ill for the blonde haired lawyer. 

Ren shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. 

Snoke’s eyes refocused on him, drawn back from some dark place. 

“Something you wished to say, Ren?” 

Ren cleared his throat again, “Just that we don’t know that Matt did actually _write_ the Valentine – it could have been Bazine, and he does seem to have developed some feeling for Rey.” 

A look of derision passed over Snoke’s face, “And your point is?” 

“Well, I believe he doesn’t do Bazine’s bidding willingly, according to the surveillance tapes.” 

The lameness of his argument was reflected in Snoke’s face, which wore a sneering expression. 

“Ah, but Ren, you credit him with too many scruples. It may be as you say, but he will try to ruin her nevertheless. My, my, I would have thought you’d be more protective of young Rey.” 

Ren struggled to express himself. 

“It’s just that he danced with her when Solo left her to rendezvous with Bazine. That meant a lot to her.” 

“Really, and now we may infer that he might have done that at Bazine’s bidding too, as he was already her lover. Or,” Snoke conceded, “he may indeed have felt an attraction to Rey Solo, which makes his current intentions even more reprehensible – and unforgiveable.” 

Ren subsided. 

Snoke looked at Ren speculatively, “A trade then.” 

Ren wished he had never spoken in defence of Matt, knowing what was coming. He nodded his agreement. 

Snoke’s eyes were now twinkling with amusement. 

“You give me the names of the two women who caused Rey Solo distress, and I’ll show mercy to Matt.” 

Ren gave the two women up. 

+++ 

They stumbled to the offices of First Order, Ben had wrapped both his arms around her causing their legs to tangle as they walked, impeding their steps. It didn’t help that every so often he pushed her against a wall or into a darkened doorway to press against her and plunder her mouth with lips and tongue – her lips would be sore the next day. 

Eventually they reached his car and he pinned her against the front passenger door, kissing her like he had a minute to live. His hands found their way under her blouse and her bra was unhooked, his hands squeezing and kneading her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. She moaned under his ministrations, which added to his passion. 

“Ben. Ben,” she gasped out, trying to push him away, “someone will see us. Please, let’s go home.” 

He paused and looked down at her, cupping her chin in one large hand, “I thought I’d never get to touch you again, that you were done with me, and it was torment, Rey. Now I’ve got you back, we mustn’t waste a single minute.” 

She looked into his eyes; in them was the look of the lost. 

This, then, was the consequence of her not dealing with her hurt properly, maturely. She had lashed out, she had cut, she had wounded, not allowing him to explain, jibing at him via text. Those were not the actions of an adult, rather a spiteful child. Her mind was made up. 

“Ben, get in the car.” 

He looked at her, read the message in her eyes and let her go, opening the passenger door of the SUV and waiting until she was seated before closing it. She had kicked off her shoes and was unfastening her pants as Ben lowered himself into the driver’s seat, backing it up some and reclining it slightly. 

Her pants were off, panties following, as Ben removed his belt and threw it on the back seat. She tried to hold her coat together as she scrambled over the central console for reasons of modesty, Ben partly lifting her. The tinted windows offered some privacy but she asked him to lock the doors of the vehicle just in case. 

Straddling him, she spread out the tails of her coat over them as a covering and leaned forward to kiss him once more. She could utter all sorts of words to him in apology, but her husband was a physical creature and she knew what would please him best. 

“Benny”, she breathed, putting her hands in his hair and stroking his ears with her thumbs. He moaned his pleasure, eyes closing in bliss. Unfastening his pants, they manoeuvred wordlessly until she had freed him – he was hard and straining. 

She leaned forward to kiss him once more, thumbs rubbing his ears, his big hands gripping her flanks to support her. She had pressed her stomach against his erection whispering appreciatively, “So much love for me here.” 

His eyes were dark now, and wanting. With further manoeuvring she had him safe inside her, her hands gripping the headrest either side of his head. 

She started to move murmuring, “So much love, Benny, all for me. I won’t waste it, you’ll see. Gonna blow you when we get home, then ride you hard. No sleep for you tonight, I’ll just take your love and use it.” 

As she rode him she watched the angles of his face soften, his eyes unfocused. The detachment she’d felt at Snoke’s was once more upon her, she would memorise this feeling, draw on the feral, elemental side of her nature for strength and live for the people she loved. 

It wasn’t possible with the angle of the seat to take him fully, but her Ben was lavish in size and she clenched as she rose and then sank as deep as she could creating a pleasurable friction for them. She could tell from his breathing when his climax was building and put a hand on his chest near his heart, making a bow of her back and increasing her speed. 

Her name was on his lips as he came and she clenched and fluttered around him, milking him. 

She leaned forward, pressing her body against him arms around his neck, kissing him softly on his lips. He looked at her out of hooded eyes, “Sweetheart.” She had lifted a hand to card through his hair and he caught it, pressing kisses into her palm. 

They felt him slip out and she asked him softly if he’d like her to drive them home. 

He groaned, “Can’t we stay here, like this?” 

“If you wish, but security will be making rounds, I guess, and I can’t do what I want to do to you in the cabin of an SUV.” 

That got his attention, “You meant it, what you said?” 

“I did.” 

“I guess we better make a move then.” 

“I guess.” She hesitated, “Ben, I know I didn’t handle today very well and I’ll try to make it up to you, I promise.” 

“Rey, it’s done. We’re young and new to all this, we can work it out.” 

“If you’re sure... “ 

“I’m sure.” 

She put her lips to his, loving their softness, their tongues gently sparring. 

At last she manoeuvred herself back into the passenger seat, pulling on her panties and pressing her feet into her shoes. She kicked her pants into the footwell as Ben reversed out and they started their journey home. 

They crossed the foyer of their building, looking as respectable as they could given that the front of Ben’s dress pants, under his coat, were stained with body fluids. She had her pants rolled in a neat bundle tucked under her arm, coat securely fastened. Her bra was still undone and she felt a little wanton and wicked as she called out ‘good evening’ to the concierge with as much sangfroid as she could muster. +++ 

He awoke first, his wife clamped to his chest. He needed to pee and he definitely needed to shower, his little wife had worked him as hard as she promised. He had had the last word, surging over her until they both orgasmed, with just enough stamina to entangle their legs and pull her to him. 

He slipped out of bed looking down at her. Their mating had destroyed the bed, bedclothes spread over the carpet or lying in a tangled mess partially covering them. It was his body heat which had kept her warm, uncovered as she was. 

His eyes moved over her body auditing her small breasts and lithe form. She was blessed with an ass which cried out for a hand to constantly cup it and long, long legs ending in delicate ankles. 

He bent over her, kissing her naked shoulder while cupping one of her ass cheeks. She stirred and he pulled back and drew covers over her, leaving her to sleep on. 

About 10.30 he heard a muted shriek and thud from behind their bedroom door. He raised his mug of coffee to his lips to hide his grin as his wife emerged, hair tousled with swollen, reddened lips and stark naked. 

“Benny,” she gasped out, “what were you thinking, I’m totally going to get fired, have you seen the time?” 

Without waiting for an answer she ran to the bathroom, affording him an excellent view of her much admired ass. His penis woke up and twitched. Some minutes later she emerged, hair still tousled and still naked, begging him to tell her where her purse was. He pointed his coffee mug in the direction of their dining table, where he’d flung it along with their coats. 

She moved swiftly toward it, grumbling how he was so not helping, scrabbling to find her purse and check her phone. She had her back to him, stretching out over the table to grab the strap of her purse. His eyes darkened and he felt himself beginning to engorge. 

Apparently her phone had died which led to a cry of anguish from her, standing facing him now with breasts on full view – set high and firm. He put down his coffee cup. 

She was moving back to their bedroom scolding him for not waking her, emerging minutes later clutching lingerie and heading once more for the bathroom, her firm ass cheeks jiggling slightly in her haste. 

He toed off his moccasins and pulled off his cashmere sweater, dropping it where he stood. As he walked toward the bathroom he heard the shower start up. He pulled his belt from the loops of his pants as he peeled them off and kicked them away, winding the leather strap in a loop around his fist. The bathroom door closed behind him, seconds after that a woman’s shriek filled the quiet of the apartment. 

+++ 

James Snoke’s lawyers, in behalf of Ben Solo, filed suit against Patrice. Kaydel, realising just how much trouble she was in, ratted her out. 

The owner of the clinic, upon hearing of the cruel trick played on Rey Solo from James Snoke himself, instructed his practice manager to fire Patrice on the spot – Kaydel was given the option to resign. 

Neither girl could find meaningful employment thereafter and eventually left the city, Patrice with an award for punitive damages dogging her steps. 

The weekend following Ben and Rey’s reconciliation was spent at James Snoke’s mansion, their host making himself invisible except for eating dinner and spending part of the evening with them. 

Rey confided to Ben she had fallen in love with the place and Ben began to talk of selling their apartment and finding something similar – bathroom with bathtub an essential requirement.


	16. Chapter 16

Rey had been a little distressed to hear from Ben of Patrice and Kaydel’s dismissal. It wouldn’t have been easy, but she would have tried to work with them. Ben was adamant though, the women had crossed a line. He didn’t mention suit had been filed against Patrice. 

She was sat on his knee when he told her, he pressing kisses wherever he chose against her skin, she wrapped in one of their large fluffy towels. 

“Sweetheart,” he began, “I wonder if you’ll do something for me?” 

“Anything”, she replied instantly. 

He buried his face into her neck, his voice muted but audible, “I don’t want you to see Ren again.” 

She was taken aback, his request coming from the left field. 

“Ben, I’ve only met him twice, both times by accident.” 

“About that,” his grip on her tightened as he lifted his head and bowed it before her, not meeting her eyes, “I accept it wasn’t an assignation, but sweetheart you knew where to find him. It follows I want you to promise not to go to that restaurant again.” 

The atmosphere between them had changed and she sensed a watchful tension on Ben’s part. 

Calming herself, she took one of his hands and pressed it against her stomach, pressing her own hand against his. 

“I promise. I won’t go to the restaurant ever again.” 

His lips were on hers in an instant. 

“Thank you,” he breathed as he broke the kiss leaning his forehead against hers, “I’m sorry to be this way, but I’ve never been in love before and I’ve never been jealous this way before.” 

These sentiments she understood and it thrilled her to know he had such strong feeling for her. 

+++ 

She returned to work the next day a little apprehensive of her reception, but it went better than she had anticipated. The practice manager was supportive and her other colleagues sympathetic. 

Some word of what Patrice and Kaydel had done must have leaked out she inferred, interpreting the oblique comments of some of her co-workers. The prevalent feeling seemed to be that had Patrice made a play for _their_ partners, blood would have flowed. Again, she regretted her own response and the anguish it had visited upon Ben. 

Their weekend at Snoke’s was relaxing and becoming addictive. It was with a pang they returned home Sunday evening. They hadn’t seen much of their host except at dinner and in the evening, and the one walk they took with him and the dogs. 

Snow had fallen and the dogs’ reaction to it had delighted her. They gambolled, barking and bouncing around. The spaniels pressed their noses into the snow, heads angled sideways to snowplough before chasing after Whizzer and Fletcher, ears flying and yipping madly. 

More of the garden was explored, a large walled garden with wide borders for summer flowers outside, and a vegetable garden with bee hives and chickens. 

Children would love it here, she thought, pressing a hand against her stomach. 

She looked away to find Snoke’s eyes upon her, as if comprehending her thoughts. She smiled at him and he blushed and turned away, calling in the spaniels that were getting a little too interested in the chicken coop and the nervy ladies residing within. 

+++ 

The month of March bought a letter from Maz telling of her good fortune. 

She shared the contents of the letter with Ben, who reached out and held her close. She was a little surprised at his reaction, but any caresses from him were welcome. 

March also brought news of the suspension of First Order socials. She could not be sorry. Although she was sure Bazine’s power over Ben had diminished, the thought that he may give in to her and arranged a meet was painful beyond measure – she drew a parallel with Ben’s insecurity regarding Ren and acknowledged the justice of it. 

March also brought news of Matt leaving First Order. She was sorry not to have said goodbye, feeling gratitude toward him for his past companionship. She noticed Ben side eyeing her after noting her ‘oh’ of disappointment and regret when he gave her the news. 

“What?” she challenged. 

He huffed and said nothing in reply. 

“I was very grateful to him,” she argued, “without his kindness the socials would have been more of a nightmare.” 

Ben was grabbing her then, pressing her tightly against him one hand cupping her ass – a favourite resting place these days. 

“He was a weasel,” he replied. “Anyways, you don’t need him anymore, you have me.” He was pressing another part of him into her, “All of me.” 

“You so love yourself, Solo.” 

“Not as much as you do, sweetheart, not as much as you do.” 

+++ 

Throughout the first week in March she was anxious and watchful, which wasn’t helping, she knew ... and then the fall of Poe Dameron happened. 

They were spending the weekend at Snoke’s. Ben and Snoke had disappeared into the study to discuss business leaving her happily curled up on one of the large sofas in the main sitting room, a bright fire crackling in the hearth as she flicked her way through the pages of glossy magazines. 

She looked up as Charles walked in, giving a discreet cough to attract her attention – her presence was requested in the study. She rose and obediently followed him. Ben was alone. 

She looked around interestedly. A fire was burning in the study too, the room softly lit by it and from the ambient glow of wall lights. There was an imposing antique desk, well lit by a task light, and a sofa and chairs upholstered in leather dyed a rich green. The whole room had a masculine vibe but not overtly so, softened by oak panelling and rendered homely by evidence of the dogs’ occupancy and the books and magazines strewn about. 

“Would you like a drink?” 

Ben was stood by a drinks trolley crammed with bottles jockeying for position, offering most of the alcoholic beverages known to man. 

She shook her head, “No, thanks.” 

As he walked toward her, drink in hand, she saw the tension in his face. 

“Ben, what is it? Have you had bad news? Is the business in trouble?” 

He caught her hand and pulled her after him to stand before the fire, looking down into its flames as he sipped his whiskey. 

She waited patiently. 

He cleared his throat. 

“As from Monday, you’ll be taken to work and brought home by car. You should be safe to go to work, at least for a little while, but you mustn’t go about by yourself – at least for a little while.” 

He sipped at his whiskey and she waited, seeing his jaw working as he tried to master some inner conflict. 

“There’s going to be a story printed,” he continued, “it will hit the newsstands Monday as an exclusive but then will be syndicated. The fallout will be messy, a lot of stuff from the past it going to get stirred up and I don’t want you tainted by it in any way if I can help it.” 

She nodded, preserving her silence. 

“My mother,” he swallowed hard, “my mother has entrusted Dameron with almost everything and he has repaid her by abusing her trust and the privileges of her office. He has taken bribes and misused public funds – amongst other things.” 

She gasped, grasping at once the magnitude of the scandal. 

He placed his whiskey glass on the mantelpiece and turned and pulled her into him. 

“I can’t bear it if you are injured by any of this in some way. The tabloids are going to become interested in you and will go digging for dirt. Be careful what you say to your colleagues and clients – they will try to subvert everyone. My family’s past will also be laid out for everyone to pick over – some of it is not pretty. Promise me you’ll come to me with your questions if anything you read or hear disturbs you.” 

She nodded, “I promise.” 

He sighed, holding her tighter in his arms. They stood thus for a little while, the room silent except for the crackling and shifting from the fire in the hearth and faint extraneous sounds from the household. 

“Will you reach out to your mother?” she eventually asked. 

“If we were not estranged, but I think it may be taken the wrong way now. Anyway, I don’t have a private number for her and, anyway, I’m feeling all sorts of emotion right now – including anger and bitterness. The timing wouldn’t be right.” 

She pressed closer to him. 

“You know,” he continued, “if I didn’t have you right now, I don’t know what I’d do.” 

He pressed his face into her hair. 

“I’m glad to be here for you,” she replied. 

“We must work hard not to let this suck the joy from our lives,” his voice was serious and concerned. “I don’t want it to consume us.” 

She looked up at him, searching his face for assurance of his words. 

Taking a deep breath she began, “Would,” she hesitated and then began again, “would a baby help maintain our joy?” 

He smiled down at her and remarked comfortably, “Of course, and we’ll get around to that eventually. I promise.” 

“What if you’d already got around to it?” 

He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her off and peering into her face. 

“How?” 

She raised her brows at him and he laughed, his laugh boyish sounding and infectious. 

“I mean I know how, but I thought you were on birth control?” 

“The first night we stayed over here, I hadn’t brought my birth control and that one missed day was enough.” She grew thoughtful, “And maybe all those other times, too.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“As sure as I can be without a test to confirm, but I feel slightly fatigued all the time and my body has changes.” 

He sucked in a breath and drew her close once more. Minutes passed and then the words burst from him. 

“Think of it, our own family, Rey, our own family! It won’t be like it was for us; our children won’t feel unloved or be neglected. We must write our intentions down so we don’t lose sight of them. Oh, Rey, this is the best news ever!” 

A burden lifted from her heart and happiness flooded through her at his words. 

“We must get confirmation before we share the news,” he was all practicality. “I’ll slip out and buy a test kit.” 

“I’ve got one in my purse. I’ve just been too nervous to use it.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” 

He pulled her out of the room, growing impatient when her steps could not match his own long, loping strides. He caught her up, throwing her over his shoulder and heading for their room. Thankfully no-one was about to see them. 

Test taken, they counted down before heading back to the bathroom for confirmation – there it was; they were indeed expecting a baby. 

He gave a whoop of joy. 

“Can we still have sex?” he wanted to know. 

At her affirmative, he whooped again, “Great, we’re going to have celebration sex right here, right now!” 

”Up,” he commanded her, and she sprang up legs curling around his waist, laughing for sheer joy. He began walking with her toward the bed and she put her face close to his, looking into his deep, dark eyes. “Hey, Solo, guess what? I can legit call you Daddy now!” 

He paused, looking down at her, she was leaning back in his arms, hands loosely clasping his shoulders, head thrown back as she laughed at her own joke, exposing that long, lovely neck of hers. How had he got so lucky? How had he survived without her in his life? 

”Hey,” he murmured. She wound her arms around his neck, placing her forehead against his, “What?” “Rey Solo, I love you.” 

+++ 

Snoke was as thrilled at the news as they were and offered them the shelter of his home whenever they needed it. Promising to wet the baby’s head with champagne the minute it was born. 

The Dameron story broke Monday morning – Leia bore the brunt of the fallout. 

Rey was ferried to and from work and was careful with her responses to solicitous inquiries and expressions of sympathy - aware they may be false in their expression. 

Ben forgot their first wedding anniversary. She didn’t, nor did her friends or Snoke, who sent her a lovely bouquet. He also forgot her birthday in early April. Her friends didn’t, nor Snoke, who had bought her a diamond bracelet. She found it placed on her breakfast plate in its velvet covered case. 

Thrilled, she placed a chaste kiss on his pitted and inflamed cheek – he blushed scarlet. 

Ben never forgot another anniversary or birthday. 

Also in April, the second story broke on Dameron, implicating Han in his wrongdoing. Leia, who had survived the first scandal, resigned office immediately. 

As well as the allegations of money laundering and drug smuggling, the dynamics of the Skywalker-Solo family were minutely examined and its old scandals revisited – Maker there were enough of them. 

The press were sympathetic to Ben, working the angle of his rejection in favour of Dameron, who had become the de facto son. Han and Leia emerged with very little likability. 

Whilst all this was true, it did not make easy reading and a consequence was intrusive interest in Ben and Rey’s relationship. When the reporters turned up at the clinic along with paparazzi, jostling her in the subsequent melee, it was time to retreat to Snoke’s and take temporary unpaid leave from her job. 

Baby Solo relieved a lot of the stress at this time, his presence more visible by the month. 

As they needed to move out of their apartment – the lease stipulated no children under 12 were allowed residency, they moved their things to Snoke’s as a temporary measure. They never left, eventually raising four children there, because why not? They were both ‘only’s’ and wanted their children to have the belonging that had been denied them. 

Homebody Snoke was the polar opposite of capitalist Snoke. 

Rey never saw the ruthless, feral side of him, drawing close, as though a beloved daughter. As a result, after much discussion, Baby Solo became Baby James and Snoke was both godfather and honorary grandfather to him, and to the three siblings who followed. 

He began to spend more time at home, enabling Rey to return to work after her maternity leave, and handing more responsibility to Ben. 

Over the years he became a familiar sight in the neighbourhood, wrangling (eventually) four children and their dogs and stuff. 

At the end of the child rearing years, he could change a diaper in under a minute, mix formula and burp a baby. He could braid and fix hair, shape and paint nails, and stand patiently holding up items of clothing for inspection as the outfit for the day was chosen. Taking his scolding like a man – “No, more pretty one, Pops!” 

He was also well versed in the movies of Disney and Pixar and could unfailingly identify at least twenty dinosaurs. He could magic away the pain of bumps and bruises and clean and dress scrapes and wounds like no other. 

After their parents, he was the most important person in their life. He quashed his jealousy as best he could when Leia tried for reconciliation; he had found his belonging and was prepared to do whatever it took to keep it. Fortunately, she never came close to his importance in their lives and he managed his possessiveness better over time. 

Along with Ben, he proved an absolute nightmare when the girls started dating, those piercing blue eyes becoming icy as he looked the latest beau up and down and found him wanting. 

He developed a trick of slowly looking them up and down, from head to toe, his eyes then travelling to and lingering on the crotch area before emitting a derisory huff. 

Unwilling to die as virgins, (his preferred option for them), the girls banished him to the library when dates came calling.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ties up a loose end to the original fic: The fate of Kylo Ren.

Even his Mom was getting antsy with him. He’d checked out of First Order after hearing Rey Solo was pregnant. It just seemed that there would be nothing but trouble if he stayed around. 

Snoke graciously accepted his resignation, thanking him for his service whilst looking like a cat that had been at the cream. 

Of course, he thought sourly, even Snoke had got what he wanted, (it was no surprise when his dad mentioned later that the Solo’s had moved in with ‘Jimmy’). 

So he had packed his bags and headed home, where his mother had initially been ecstatic to have her ‘baby’ at home. That had been four months ago and mom’s lips were pressed into a thin line now when she caught him sprawled on the couch mid-afternoon channel surfing, after getting out of bed mid-morning. 

He noticed, sort of, she was muttering ‘mooch’ now as she scuttled away to find Pops and nag him to find their disconsolate son a job. 

Snoke had been generous with his severance, so financially there was no pressure to look for a job. He could be working out at the gym, he supposed, losing the five or six pounds excess weight he’d gained. Or maybe polish up his skill sets to make himself a more desirable applicant in the job market, but here’s the thing, the less he did the less he wanted to do, and the more sleep he got the more tired he felt. 

There came a day, just before lunch, when Pops discovered him in the kitchen guzzling cereal, having not long dragged himself out of bed. 

“Good morning, heartbreaker,” Pops was his usual breezy, annoying self. He rolled his eyes, the joke was old. 

He grunted something that _might_ be an acknowledgement of his dad’s greeting, keeping it all low key to discourage his father from releasing his usual tsunami of cheerful banter upon him. 

Fortunately, Pops was dialled back this morning, wanting him only to walk over to Lando Calrissian’s place of business to collect his Ford Falcon classic car, which had been put in for its annual service and tune up. 

He made the obligatory moans and groans of protest, but complied, earning himself a back slap that caused him to jolt forward, and receive a bracing “That’s the spirit!” 

His dad was unfailingly upbeat and he could only whine back, “Pops,” before slouching off to find his trainers. 

He (sort of) hadn’t really been bothering about his appearance, his goatee had morphed into a beard and his hair was way too long, in fact he’d braided the top to keep it out of his face. Ma had complained to Pops about his caveman look, but Pops just made soothing noises and his mother had backed off – for now. 

Added to that, he was wearing sweatpants that (maybe) needed to go in the laundry and an ancient t-shirt – almost threadbare and with a rip in one of the sleeves. 

The rip had come about because his mother had wanted to convert it into dusters and there had been a tussle for possession. He’d won, holding it high over his head, his mother too diminutive to reach for it; she still cast predatory glances its way when it surfaced from where he had hidden it. 

As he schlepped toward Lando’s he contemplated getting his actual act together and get a job and his own place. As much as he loved them, it was plain he was regressing to his teenage years living with his parents, maybe even pre-pubescence. He sighed, turning into Lando’s business premises. 

Lando’s office was empty, the lights on and the television playing to itself. He followed the sound of a radio station playing and tools being used, and came to a full stop about four feet from a figure buried under the hood of a truck. 

There was now no doubt in his mind he needed to get laid, and as soon as possible, because he was immediately fixated on the ass of the mechanic before him and his blood consequently rushed south. 

Don’t get him wrong, it was a really great ass, the coveralls stretched tight over it in a way that drew his hand inexorably toward it, he drew the inexorable hand back in a hurry. Shit, was he really gonna feel up the guy who was fixing his dad’s car? 

“Something I can help you with mister?” 

The voice was feminine, and belligerent. He looked up from contemplating his treacherous hand, now fisted in front of him, a female stood before him dressed in coveralls, the mechanic. 

His eyes roamed over her. A neat figure, as far as he could tell under the coveralls. Small breasted, true, but just the right size for his hands he was guessing. He could hardly wait to find out. 

She was something of a looker, too, with beautiful bone structure and a golden skin. A brunette, his favourite kind of woman, with her hair pulled back from her face, though little wisps were clinging to her forehead and temples. 

His eyes flicked to her mouth. Mmm, pretty pink lips, not too full and just ripe for the taking. Eyes green with gold flecks and a hard expression in them. He reeled his vision back - and a wrench in one hand which she was tapping in a menacing way against the palm of the other. 

She was speaking again, “Mister, if you don’t start talking soon, this wrench is gonna make intimate contact with your teeth.” 

Feisty, eh? He drew himself up to his full, impressive height, “Kind of short aren’t you to be making those sorts of threats?” 

She was on it in a heartbeat, “Don’t you worry about that, mister, I’ll soon cut you down to size. Now speak.” 

“Huh, and not too great at customer service, either,” he snarked back. 

She pointed the wrench at his hand, “Not with customer’s who intend copping a feel of my ass. They get a wayyy different kind of service.” She hefted the wrench in a menacing way, “Know what I mean?” 

She was perfect. He was just about to open his mouth and possibly dig a bigger hole for himself, when a familiar voice rang out, “Matt, long time no see, buddy, you here for your dad’s car?” 

He turned to shake Lando’s hand, receiving a big hug instead, Lando rocking him from side to side, slapping his back and saying, “Good to see you, buddy. Good to see you.” 

Lando and his dad went through school together, and a manly handshake as sufficient greeting was anathema to the pair of them. 

Lando began chatting to him and he angled his body as they spoke, trying to get the cute mechanic in his line of sight. She was leaning under the hood of the truck again – yeah! 

Lando was punching his arm lightly, “Matt, you listening?” 

“What? Sure, yes... um?” 

“I said come to the office and I’ll get you the bill for your dad’s car.” 

“Oh, sure. Yes. Right away.” 

Lando’s face was alive with curiosity now and he cursed his lack of paying attention. Lando liked to interfere, like his dad, and any moment now he was going to figure out the reason for his distraction. 

Too late, he watched Lando’s eyes narrow in comprehension and then gleam with mischief; he opened his mouth, “Hey, Keira.” 

The girl stopped working on the truck and turned, “Yup?” 

“It’s your lunch hour, yeah?” 

“I guess,” Keira replied. 

“Good, good, because I’m closing the shop for the afternoon and Matt here wants to take you to lunch.” 

She took the news on the chin, betraying no emotion. Instead she looked him up and down before turning to her boss, “Oh, and am I paying?” 

At the same time Lando uttered a pained, “Oof!” he blurted out an emphatic, “No, I am.” 

She turned those wide hazel eyes on him, something of a challenge in them, “You are?” 

He was suddenly painfully aware that he was not rocking his best look. 

“We just need to go to my house and I’ll get changed and collect my wallet,” he mumbled. 

She seemed intent on wilfully misunderstanding him, “So, you want me to come with you to your house while you strip out of those clothes?” 

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He so wished she hadn’t said the word _strip_. He also wished he had worn boxer shorts under his sweats instead of going commando, but sometimes the guys down there need to swing free, you know? He thrust his hands in his pockets and made a tent in the front of them, before his traitorous dick did. 

“It’s ok,” Lando was being helpful again, “Matt lives with his folks.” 

A suppressed snort of laughter met this reassurance, and she was looking at him with one eyebrow raised as if in disbelief. 

He was just getting ready to bail on the whole thing when she spoke again, “Ok, mister, I’ll go to lunch with you, but I get to choose where and you get to pay. Oh, and I’m driving.” 

He nodded his heart beating with happiness at the chance to get her alone and bring on his A-game. She turned away, heading to the back of the auto-shop. A manly slap between his shoulder blades had him jolting forwards, Lando was grinning from ear to ear, “That’s the spirit! Go get her tiger.” 

Yeah, he was definitely reverting to pre-pubescence. 

He waited for her in Lando’s office, clutching his dad’s bill and the key to the Falcon. As usual, Lando was talking about everything and something. He listened with half an ear, making an interested sounding _mmm_ every so often. As usual, that was all the encouragement Lando needed to keep prating on. 

“Here she is!” Lando broke off what he was saying, proclaiming her arrival in a voice that was filled with affectionate pride. He turned and, indeed, there she was, standing in the doorway of Lando’s office. 

He took in her look, from her hair which now hung in soft waves about her shoulders down through her cropped top revealing well toned abs, her short shorts showing off her endless, golden legs, to her feet encased in ankle socks and strappy sandals with a low heel. 

She looked good enough to eat, and she had awoken his big, bad wolf. He tried not to leer, but she looked content with his reaction to her by the look she was giving him. 

“Come on, hotshot. Bye Lando,” she breezed, turning to go, and he thought he was going to combust with the sight of her derriere. 

It had looked good with her coveralls stretched across it, but now, with the hint of ass cheeks below the hemline of her shorts, it looked positively peachy. He had every intention of getting better acquainted with it. 

Another manly slap on the back was delivered, Lando’s voice cheerfully exhorting him to, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Yeah, he needed to get a job out of town and his own place. 

She was sitting in the driver’s seat of the Falcon, as he slotted himself into the passenger seat. Without a word she put out her hand, palm up, for the key. As he handed it over, he saw her nose twitch and then she wound down her window before putting the key in the ignition. He hadn’t showered that morning and was leaking testosterone like billy bejesus. Damn! 

He went to tell her where he lived, his semi-erection withering on the vine with this latest setback, when she interrupted him, “I know where you live.” 

She turned the key and the Falcon fired up with a roar before softening into an aggravated growl. She put her in gear and they moved out, the Falcon now purring contentedly. She waved at Lando, stood on the stoop of the shop with his phone clamped to his ear, phoning his parents – he’d bet a year’s salary. 

Well, his family were not ruining his date (date?), yeah, date. Keira could wait in the car. There had been too many near fails to get her here, he could do a twenty minute turnaround including showering. 

She stopped the car before turning into his parents’ driveway, the Falcon grumbling discontentedly, “This is your house?” 

“Yeah, I grew up in this house.” 

“So, your parents are like what, gazillionaires?” For the first time her composure slipped, and he heard uncertainty and doubt about herself in her voice. 

“Hey,” he put his hand over hers, where it rested on the gear shift, a tremor rippled through her at his touch. “It’s a house. My parents are just ordinary folk.” 

She turned her head toward him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes bright with – tears? 

He repeated himself, “Just ordinary folk, Keira.” 

He felt her lift her hand and turn it under his, linking their fingers briefly. A feeling of self-confidence flooded through him, he finally felt like himself. He could win her. 

She withdrew her hand and put the Falcon in gear, turning into the half-moon driveway before parking up and turning off the ignition, staring straight ahead of her. 

“Come,” his voice was soothing, “come and meet the folks.” 

He exited the car, walking around to her side, opening the door and putting out his hand to assist her, finally remembering the manners his mother had taught him. 

She put her hand in his, extended one long, golden leg onto the gravel and the rest of her followed, rising up to lean briefly against his chest like a sinuous thread of spun gold. He leaned in and took her purse off of the back seat and handed it to her. 

He then led her, clasping her fingertips as if she was a medieval bride going to her marriage bed, to the door of his parents’ house, her legs wobbling a little in her nervousness. 

He pulled her to him as they reached the front door, his arm encircling her waist as he drew her over the threshold. His parents were waiting in the large hall beyond the lobby, clearly Lando had called them. He then acknowledged to himself why he loved his parents so much, why he’d sought shelter with them while he licked the wounds of his bruised heart and attempted to heal. 

His father advanced on them, a welcoming smile on his lips, “Keira, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, Mr. Palps, we briefly met, I work for Lando Calrissian.” 

She’d put out her hand to shake his. He saw his dad take hold of it and pull her into a bear hug, his mom vibrating with suppressed excitement behind him, waiting on her turn. 

“Call me Pops,” his dad told her, releasing her and stepping away, “And call me Ma,” said his mother, clasping the girl tightly to her in a loving embrace. She stepped back, peering up into Keira’s face, who was about three inches taller than her, “Come into the kitchen, dear, and let’s have a good chat.” 

His mom led her away. His dad slapped his back and said, “Good job, son,” before disappearing into his study, leaving him to stand there wondering what the hell just happened. 

Back in his room, he studied himself in the mirror behind his closet door. Boy, had he overestimated his pulling power, he looked a mess. 

Ok, he’d tidy up his beard and then shower; there was nothing he could do about his hair right now. He’d go to Chewie’s barber shop tomorrow and get it cut – though still covering his ears. He’d get Chewie to sort out his beard, too, which he’d like to keep. Maybe have it running just along his jawline, with a moustache? He retrieved his girl forty-five minutes later; wearing a grey Henley stretched tight across his chest, which also showed every ounce of the excess weight gain around his midriff – the source of some minutes of agonised, impotent angst. He’d teamed it with black slim leg jeans and proper black leather shoes. 

He’d also popped two condoms in his wallet. He’d wanted to pop in three, but decided against; after all they had years and years of love-making ahead of them, best to pace himself. 

He found his girl still in the kitchen with his mom. There was evidence of pie and coffee being consumed as they’d waited on him, and evidence of tears shed by the both of them too, judging by their slightly reddened eyes and pink tipped noses. They both looked happy now though. 

His mom clung onto his girl as he drew her away, getting a promise to come to Sunday lunch from her. His dad waylaid them in the hall, drawing her into another bear hug, uttering, “That’s mighty fine,” upon hearing she was visiting again come Sunday. They both stood on the house steps waving them off as they drove out the driveway, his mother fluttering one of her everlasting dusters at them, as if she was waving them off on a year long voyage. 

“Are they always like this?” Keira’s voice was husky as he manoeuvred them through traffic. 

“Like what,” he asked. 

“Like they want to gather you up and keep you safe. Are they always like that with the women you bring home?” 

“Wouldn’t know,” he replied, “you’re the first I ever did.” 

He could feel her gazed fixed upon him as he drove, but kept his eyes on the road, letting that piece of information sink in and do its work. 

“They are wonderful people,” she remarked finally, “you are fortunate to have them.” 

“Don’t I know it,” he fervently replied. 

It was the right thing to say. She settled back in her seat, a pleased little sigh of contentment escaping her lips. 

She’d chosen an upmarket steak house, obviously testing his resolve and his wallet, and perversely ordered a burger with all the trimmings. He settled on a steak. 

When their food came, she set her elbows either side of her plate, leaning over it. In her right hand dangled her fork, tines pointing down. He had the idea that this was a defensive position, and that if he tried to snag one of her fries or an onion ring that fork would be buried in his flesh in short order. 

There were so many things he wished to know about her, but restrained himself. We have all the time in the world, he chided himself, not wanting to spook and lose her, and so the conversation throughout lunch was general. She had a good sense of humour and he could make her laugh. 

That was important, he knew, if you could make a woman laugh it meant that she felt safe and was relaxed and comfortable around you. He was practically home free. 

As they waited for his credit card to be returned, she asked him, “Matt, what do you want from me?” 

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, “Lady, whatever you want to give me.” 

She nodded, looking down at her now empty dessert plate before raising her eyes to meet his, “You know you are full on intense, right?” 

He swallowed again, asking in a voice that didn’t quite sound like his, one laced with disappointment, “Is that a problem?” 

She answered him without hesitation, “It might have been, but then I met your folks.” 

He took a risk, “So what would you want from me?” 

Again she was ready with her answer, “To see where this road takes us.” 

That was good, right? It meant she’d been thinking over _them_ all this while. 

She was speaking again, “But don’t crowd me, ok?” 

He thought regretfully of the condoms in his wallet, but tucked his double disappointment away, “Okay.” 

He drove her back to the auto-shop, where she was renting the tiny apartment built over the office from Lando. He watched disconsolately as she bid him goodbye and unlocked the door. As she went to walk in he found his voice and called out, “I lied.” 

She turned to look at him. He began again, “I lied before, in the restaurant, I want everything with you. House, kids, pets, you name it, and you, always you, for however long we’ve got.” 

Well, that was dumb his inner self chided. He’d better leave town before she did, to get away from the creepy, intense guy who just might come back to her place of work and try to feel her ass. 

“I know.” 

Her voice was clear, easily bridging the distance between them. 

“Matt, a word from the wise, whatever happens don’t ever play poker. At least not for cash money, you’ll lose your shirt.” 

She turned and walked into her apartment, disappearing up the stairs. 

He heaved a sigh. There were some guys he knew down south. Maybe he’d take a road trip down there, see what was going on. He turned away from her open front door, preparing to walk back to the Falcon and out of her life. Wait! Her front door was _open_ ; she hadn’t closed it behind her. Was there a message there, a hidden meaning? 

He cautiously stepped over the threshold, timidly rapping on the door. 

“Hey, Keira, you left your front door open. Should I close it?” he called up the stairs, his voice tinged with hopefulness. 

There was movement. He looked up; she stood at the top of the stairs as naked as the day she was born, but looking a lot more interesting. His blood pounded in his ears. 

“Get your butt up here, Marine, and do your duty.” 

He slammed the apartment door shut and took the stairs three at a time. 

Later, when he’d used the two condoms, and was mourning the lack of a third, he bent his head and kissed under her ear, she was pressed with her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, “When can we get married?” he whispered to her. 

“When you’ve got a job,” she murmured back, sleepily patting his hand, “and a haircut.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
